


My Boyfriend is Indestructible

by Croik



Series: Radioactive Boyfriends [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Age Difference, Hulk Sex, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Are you...busy?"</em>  </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Bruce tilted his head to the side, and Peter obliged him with a gentle kiss to his neck.  "Not particularly," he answered.</em></p><p> </p><p> <em>"Good."  Peter kissed him again, and then he wrapped his arms across Bruce's chest, holding him tight.  "Because I want us to have a conversation about the Hulk."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So when I said there was going to be one more short, what I really meant was multiple chapters in the realm of 15k (this always happens to me OTL). First chapter pretty tame but it will earn its rating by the end, I promise. Comments and concrit welcome and appreciated!

It started out as a very normal Friday evening. Bruce sat at the computer in his apartment, looking over the latest data package from Dr. Connors, while Peter did his school reading stretched out on the floor. They had spent so many nights in a similar manner that Bruce sometimes teased that Peter had wasted his money bothering to rent an apartment at all.

Just as common was when Peter tired of his studying and crept up behind Bruce. Sometimes he would simply sit himself down in Bruce's lap and steal a kiss, but on that very normal Friday, he started instead with a shoulder massage. Bruce had no complaints. He leaned back into Peter's strong hands and only pretended to continue scrolling through blood toxin reports. By the time Peter got around to kissing the back of his ear, he was already making a mental list of what he felt up to doing that night, where to begin...

"Hey," said Peter, reaching forward to undo a few buttons on Bruce's shirt. "Bruce."

"Hey, Peter," said Bruce, scrolling back up to the point in his document where he'd stopped paying attention.

"Are you...busy?"

Bruce tilted his head to the side, and Peter obliged him with a gentle kiss to his neck. "Not particularly," he answered.

"Good." Peter kissed him again, and then he wrapped his arms across Bruce's chest, holding him tight. "Because I want us to have a conversation about the Hulk."

Bruce went still. He looked to his monitor as if for help, and the words _subject remains unresponsive to treatment_ jumped out at him. He closed the file. "Why?"

Peter exhaled sharply against his ear. "Because it's important," he said, and when he took a step back, Bruce and his chair came with him. "Because he's part of you, and that affects me. And because you promised we would."

"I made that promise hoping I could put it off until you let it go," said Bruce, only half joking.

"Too bad for you." Peter circled around in front of him. "Because you owe me and it's time to pay up." He met Bruce's eyes seriously. "I want to have a conversation."

Bruce started to answer, but was forced to pause when Peter took his seat in his lap. When Peter laced his fingers behind the back of his neck, he couldn't help but respond in kind, wrapping his arms around Peter's waist. "Okay," he said once they were both situated. He was already anxious but there didn't seem to be any escape; he could see in Peter's face that he had been working up to it. "We can talk about it. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Peter said immediately.

Bruce licked his lips. "You already know most of it. I was working for General Ross on the Super Soldier Serum project. The test--"

"I already know that part," Peter interrupted.

"I know you know, I just said--" Bruce sighed, sagging into the back of his chair. "I don't know where else to start."

Peter let go of Bruce just long enough to pluck off his glasses and set them down on the desk. "I want to know the rest," he said. "Not where he came from, but what he's like. What it's like for you, living with him. What he's capable of." When Brue made a face, he squirmed. "I know this isn't easy for you, but you're going to have to try, because it's important."

Bruce tried not to be irritated by Peter insistence, but it was almost too easy to react defensively whenever anyone questioned him about his other half; it had been a fairly useful tactic in the past to keep curiosities at bay. "I know, I just honestly don't know what to tell you. It's difficult to put into words."

Peter chewed his lip; he looked as if he, too, were counseling himself through the long-overdue conversation. "You said once or twice before that you can feel him," Peter said. "Did you mean, like, as a physical thing? Or a mental one?"

"Both. Sometimes...it's very physical."

"Where?"

Peter's eyes swept over him in anticipation of an answer, impressing on Bruce at last just how serious he was, and how serious he would have to be himself in return. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before guiding Peter's hands to his chest. "Here," he said, centering Peter's hands over the top of his sternum. "It's like a pressure," he explained. His voice was rough as if with disuse, which was nearly true--he had never spoken about the Hulk to anyone in such a way. "Squeezing the base of my throat--just like any time you get angry, I guess, or when you're trying not to say something you really want to."

Peter traced the hollow of Bruce's throat with two fingers. "Like when you're trying not to cry?" he supposed quietly.

Bruce swallowed--felt Peter's fingertips bob. "I guess so. Yes." He tightened his hands around Peter's and dragged them a little lower. "When it's bad, it spreads, until it feels like there's a fist clenched in my chest. That's when I really know...he's close."

Peter stared at his chest intensely. He moved his fingers in a gentle massage, which grew deeper and more possessive when Bruce didn't stop him. "What about now?" he asked.

Bruce lowered his own hands to Peter's waist again, leaning back. When he closed his eyes, he could feel Peter's touch resonating all through him and then bouncing back like sonar. "Yes," he admitted, hushed and ashamed. "I feel it."

Peter ducked in to give Bruce a kiss; he got the impression that he was being rewarded for his honesty. "What about when you change?" Peter continued. "Is it a gradual thing? Or is it all at once?"

Bruce took another deep breath, but it was already getting easier to talk about. "It can be either. Early on, I thought it was just anger, or stress. The more I tried to control it, the less it worked, and I'd go from fine to...not fine, so fast. Within minutes or seconds, even." He shook his head. "Later, I thought it was heart rate. I think it was so easy to latch onto because it gave me something I could monitor--real, concrete numbers and a surefire warning signal."

Peter smiled slightly. "It was scientific," he said.

Bruce smiled back. "Yes. And I told myself it was working, but it just led to something more dangerous."

When he faltered, Peter resumed his gentle massage. "You mean, the gradual build up," he suggested.

Bruce nodded, distracting himself momentarily with tugging at Peter's belt loops. "To be honest, it reminds me sometimes of when I was young," he said. "When someone would say something that really hurt, or pissed me off, and I'd just...you know, swallow it down. Pretend it didn't bother me."

"Oh, yeah," said Peter, tracing Bruce's collar bones beneath his shirt. "I sure know that feeling."

Bruce was both comforted and dissatisfied with the thought that, given how much they had in common, he and Peter probably shared a similar school experience. "Of course, those feelings just don't go away," he continued with greater confidence. "They build on each other, until it all comes crashing in. I used to tell myself that as long as I could keep my heart rate down, that was enough to make me safe. It only made it harder for me to recognize those building blocks. They'd stack up brick by brick, until one little thing came along to tip it all over. That was when I realized, there was probably nothing I could ever do to keep the Other Guy caged for good. Nothing I tried would hold him because in the end it would always be me, breaking the wall down myself. I considered trying to put myself into a coma. I even considered..."

Peter shivered, but Bruce didn't want to let him dwell on the unspoken confession. _Keep talking_ , a voice inside him said. _Just keep talking._ He held Peter tighter and did so. "The change itself is usually the same. My heart rate goes up, I start sweating. My vision blurs until it goes dark completely. I'm never really aware of getting any larger, but sometimes I'll feel as if my skin is getting stretched thin." He slipped his thumbs beneath Peter's shirt, just to feel a brush of skin against his own. "Like he grows inside me, until I'm not enough to contain him anymore."

Peter licked his lips; he was still recovering himself after Bruce's ominous words. "What about when you choose to change?" he asked. "You seemed to do it pretty easily, when we were going after Cap."

"That's different," Bruce admitted. "When I let it happen, it's more like...wading out into the ocean, and letting a wave crash over me." He chuckled sheepishly. "And I get metaphorical. It's a very different feeling."

Peter was quiet for a long moment; long enough for Bruce to get nervous again. "What about when you changed in the bedroom?" he finally asked.

Bruce did his best not to squirm. "I don't remember any of that," he said quietly.

"None of it?" Peter's hands stopped as he raised his eyes to Bruce's seriously. "Do you _ever_ remember what you do as Hulk?"

"Not really. Just flashes, sometimes. Sensations." Bruce fought a brief but fierce debate with himself and then asked, "What _did_ happen, Peter?"

"I..." Peter looked down again, and Bruce wasn't sure what to make of his flushed, uneasy expression. "I mean, we were in bed," he began carefully. "Going at it, I guess. And then I looked down and you were him, just like that. I didn't even notice it as it was happening." He swallowed. "We, um. Well. The short version, I suppose, would be that I wrapped my legs around his dick and let him hump me."

Bruce sputtered, his stomach turning. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed, frightened, or...jealous. The conflicting emotions drew his eyebrows together and curled his toes. "Peter, I..."

"If you're about to apologize, don't," said Peter. "Because, and I'm being super honest here, it was pretty awesome." He undid another of Bruce's shirt buttons, almost unconsciously. "He was good to me, Bruce. And if somehow it happened again...I wouldn't fight it." He smirked. "I'd just, you know, try to stay on top this time so I don't get smushed."

Bruce shook his head--he couldn't wrap his head around what Peter was describing--but before he could gather up a proper response, a new thought occurred to him. "Wait," he said. "Again?" He tensed. "Please tell me that's not why you wanted to have this conversation."

Peter's hesitation gave away his guilt, and Bruce shook his head again. "Peter, no."

Peter hooked his fingers over Bruce's shoulders and locked his ankles behind the chair as if anticipating being urged off Bruce's lap. "I want to talk to him," he said with sudden intensity. "We don't have to do it tonight, if you're not ready. But someday--someday soon--I want you to change for me, so I can talk to Hulk."

"Talk to--Peter." Bruce couldn't stop shaking his head. "It's not like you can just sit him down and have a conversation."

"Why not? He's spoken to me before. Maybe just a word here and there, but..." Peter frowned at him, and finally took his head to stop it from panning back and forth. "Did you even know he _could_ talk?"

Bruce gulped; he was starting to feel lightheaded. "No, not really," he said. "I've never given it much thought--I've only ever seen footage, which mostly consisted of...."

"Things getting smashed?" Peter squirmed excitedly. "You've only ever seen him fighting, right? You don't remember him introducing himself to me, carrying me--holding me up when I wasn't ready to stand. You didn't see how he stopped fighting when I asked him to, or...or what happened here." He splayed his fingers wide across Bruce's chest. "How he took care of me. All you've seen is what other people have shown you, and that's Hulk freaking out and breaking things and being pissed. But that's not all he is and I want to show you that."

All at once, Peter clambered off him. Bruce was left cold and a little shaken in the aftermath, staring in shock as Peter began yanking things out of a duffle bag Bruce had only barely noticed when he came in that evening. "It'll be really safe," Peter was saying as he pulled out his camera, then a familiar metal case, then pieces of a tripod. "I've really thought this through. If I set up the camera to track movement, and connect it to the launcher, I'll be able to sedate you with the gas with just a voice command."

Bruce watched him assemble the tripod, his heart in his ears. "Peter?"

"Not that I think it'll come to that anyway. Hulk wouldn't hurt me. As long as I stay clear-headed, it'll be fine." He opened the case, revealing a gas projectile and two syringes. "I even set up a safeword with JARVIS. If I say it, he'll seal the floor and go on high alert. Then if we need to--"

" _Peter_." Bruce rubbed both hands over his face and leaned forward against his knees. "Please, slow down."

Peter stopped what he was doing and knelt in front of Bruce, taking his hands. "I'm not going to force you," he said. "I'm not going to blackmail you, say we're through if you won't, withhold sex or something." Bruce gave him a doubtful look, but he continued. "If you really don't want to do it, I won't bring it up again until you do. But..." He squeezed Bruce tightly. "But it's important to me, as much as me being safe is important to you. So please, just...let me show you."

Bruce took in a deep breath. He could feel the fist already. Every one of Peter's words was another brick, and he already knew how furious the thing in him would be if he refused. But it was Peter's warm brown eyes, so full of eager hope, that tipped him. "Okay," he said, almost wheezing at first, but then he swallowed back his emotion and repeated, "Okay. But let's..." He stood, pulling Peter with him. "Let's go into the living room."

Peter bound him to his word with a kiss. "It's going to be okay," he said, sounding breathless himself as he gathered up his supplies. "You'll see, Bruce. This is going to work."

In the living room, Bruce pushed the furniture to the walls while Peter set up the tripod and camera. "I wrote a program for the camera," Peter said as he worked. "It knows my face, so if I do have to tell it to fire the gas, it'll know to aim at you." He shrugged. "Of course, I'd probably be right next to you anyway, so worst case scenario, we both take a long nap."

"That's not the worst case scenario," said Bruce.

"It's the worst _likely_ scenario, then." He moved around the room. "And I'm leaving a syringe here, and...here, just in case. That's what worked last time. I'll have my web shooters in case I need to grab one in a hurry." He met Bruce at the center of the room and stole another kiss. "Trust me, Bruce. I wouldn't put you through this if I hadn't considered everything."

"I do trust you," said Bruce. "But could you..." He took Peter's waist, fingering the seams on his shirt. "Will you please wear the suit?"

Peter smirked. "I guess since you're indulging me, it's only fair."

"That's not what I..." Bruce shook his head in embarrassment. "I mean, in case something happens and you need to leap out a window. Or worse." When Peter leaned closer, touching his shoulders, he lowered his eyes. "I'll feel better about all this if you do."

"All right." Peter kissed his forehead. "Let's get ready."

Peter changed into his suit. Bruce watched, making sure that Peter fit fresh cartridges into his web shooters. He still felt light-headed, and sweat was crawling down his back, as if his body was far ahead of him. Only once Peter had finished and rechecked his preparations did Bruce finish unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed it aside, and after some consideration, began taking off his pants as well. His hands were shaking. "JARVIS?" he called into the air. "You're sure you know this signal Peter's talking about?"

"Mr. Parker made me repeat the procedure for him several times, Dr. Banner," JARVIS replied.

Bruce shook his head, taking another moment before deciding to take off his underwear as well--he didn't trust them to hold up, depending on the size Hulk took. As Peter came closer he took a step to the side, blocking the camera's view of him. "I know the camera's tracking us," he said, eyeing it, "but are you also recording everything?"

"Yeah." Peter pointed out the red light on its top. "That's kind of the whole point, isn't it? I want you to see." He smiled suddenly. "Don't worry--it's not connected to the network. No one is going to see it but us."

Bruce released a sigh. "Good. Good..."

"Hey." Peter took Bruce's hands, lifting them between the two of them. "It's like you told me," he said. "Everything Hulk is and does comes from you. So I'm not afraid." His smile was so earnest, it was almost enough to convince Bruce then and there. "I trust you. _Both_ of you."

"I trust you," said Bruce. "I'm not sure I trust _him_."

"I know." Peter squeezed his hands. "But that's the whole reason we're doing this. Are you ready?"

Bruce closed his eyes. He listened to each beat of his heart crashing up and down his circulatory system like a roaring ocean; it wouldn't take much effort. "I'm ready," he said, and he stepped back, putting as much distance between them as he could while still holding hands. "Are you?"

Peter gave him another short squeeze. "I'm ready."

Bruce breathed slowly, in and out. Goose bumps prickled his arms, and he felt the empty space of the room around them stretch outward, readying for the inevitable rush. He let it come, so that heat and dark broke against him, and his flesh gave way.

***

Peter knew what he was doing. He told himself that several dozen times in the minute it took Bruce to change.

He had seen Bruce do it before. He had watched limbs stretch and swell, skin darken and bones expand. He had seen his lover change from man to beast and even seen the reverse. Even so, he was still breathless. He clung to Bruce's hands, eyes wide with awe as Hulk rippled to the surface, filling and overflowing his host. His heart skipped and he thought he would never get used to the sight.

Hulk straightened up with a groan. His neck cracked when he rolled his head, and his skin quivered like an animal casting off flies. It only took him a moment to absorb his surroundings, blinking in the low light, before his eyes fell on Peter, and a heavy breath puffed from his nostrils.

Peter gulped. _I know what I'm doing_ , he thought with determination as he looked eight feet of green-clad muscle up and down. _He won't hurt me._ He licked his lips and dug down deep to find his voice. "Hulk."

Hulk stared at him, and slowly, he lowered himself to his knees. "It's me," Peter said as Hulk dropped his hands to the floor, balancing against his knuckles like a gorilla. "You remember me, right? It's been a while."

Hulk's brow furrowed. His entire face was more animated than Peter remembered, different emotions playing across his flashing eyes and downturned lips. His jaw worked several times before he was able to speak. "Peter."

Peter sighed with relief. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's me. I'm glad you--"

He took a step closer, but Hulk shied back, his gaze dropping to the ground. Peter halted. "What is it?"

"Sorry," said Hulk, refusing to look at him. "Sorry."

"What?" Peter glanced to the camera behind him--he was already itching to show Bruce his progress. "What for?"

"Hulk..." Hulk squirmed, which was both comedic and unnerving, given his size. At last he lifted his hand, reaching for Peter but then stopping short. His fingers curled and uncurled between them. "Hurt Peter."

Peter set both of his hands on Hulk's and stepped closer anyway. "You won't hurt me. I know you--"

Hulk snorted loudly, and despite himself, Peter flinched. "Hulk _hurt_ Peter," he repeated, and he very carefully nudged the back of his knuckles against Peter's chest. "Breathe. Sorry."

"You're talking about what happened here?" When Hulk tried to pull back, Peter latched onto his hand and kept it close. "Hulk, it's okay. That was a long time ago, and I'm fine. See?" He rubbed the back of Hulk's palm in encouragement. "Have you felt guilty about that all this time?"

Hulk nodded. _Of course he would,_ thought Peter as he slipped past Hulk's hand and moved closer. _Bruce still does._ "It's okay," he said again, and with his nerves firmly in place he reached up to touch Hulk's jaw. "I know you didn't mean it. I forgive you. Okay?"

Hulk lifted his eyes, watching Peter with a searching expression. "Peter," he mumbled. He drew his hand in close to curl behind Peter's back, but he was careful not to touch him. "Peter."

Peter felt emotion well in his throat. He had planned so carefully what he was going to say, tried to guess at how Hulk would act and speak and answer, but he was already overwhelmed by Hulk bowing in shame before him. He wished he could be a beast himself, just to be big enough to wrap Hulk up in his arms. "Hulk, I..." He swallowed hard and grasped after his convictions. "I wanted to talk to you, to get to know you better. Do you understand?"

"Talk," said Hulk, his face screwing up.

"I guess it's not your forte, huh."

Hulk shook his head. His eyes darted away, distracted, and his cheeks puffed in frustration. Peter started to lean back, worried that he'd offended him or worse, and felt Hulk's clenched fist trembling against his back. _Don't freak out_ , he told himself, casting quick glances at the different syringes around the room. _You're fine._ "Sorry," he said. "We don't have to talk, if you--"

Hulk growled sharply, his head ducking and shoulders arching. Peter kept very still as he readied to act, but then he realized that Hulk's lips were moving. When he watched more closely he could see the muscles along his throat and jaw constricting, swallowing, trying to work. Hulk's voice rumbled out of him in fits and starts that might have sent Steve reaching for his shield, but Peter waited him out, finally understanding Hulk's pinched brows and gnarled frown for what they meant.

"Shh, it's okay." Peter put both hands to Hulk's mouth to quiet him. "You're trying, aren't you? I understand."

Hulk lowered his head again, and his look of bitter disappointment looked so much like Bruce. Peter licked his lips and tried another tactic. "You know," he said carefully, "I get angry, too. It just bubbles up inside, and sometimes, it's hard to breathe let alone talk. And then when I _am_ able to talk, the wrong thing comes out." He grimaced, rubbing Hulk's jaw. "I've said and done some things I didn't mean to, because I was angry. Is that what it's like, for you?"

Hulk nodded, already looking relieved. Peter decided to push a little more. "There must be a lot going on in there," he said, gently tapping Hulk's forehead. "Too much to get out properly."

"Peter," Hulk murmured, the rest of it spilling from his lips as unintelligible grumblings. When he started to get frustrated again, Peter soothed him quiet.

"I know how that can be," said Peter in a way he hoped was encouraging. "When you know you're doing the wrong thing, but you can't help it, because you don't know what else to do. I bet it scares you sometimes, too."

Hulk squirmed uncomfortably, and Peter wondered suddenly if Hulk ever felt Bruce lodged at the base of his throat. He could almost feel it himself, and it inspired him. "Listen," said Peter, "do you want to know what I do now, whenever I'm really angry or scared, and I need to calm down?" He smiled. "I think about you."

Hulk narrowed his eyes. "Bruce."

That raised a whole new slew of questions, but Peter didn't have time to think about them. "No, _you_ ," he said, poking Hulk in the nose. But Hulk was still eyeing him with doubt, so he quickly became serious again. "I mean it. Do you remember the first time _we_ met? When we had to...help the Captain?" He went back to stroking Hulk's cheeks and jaw, hoping it would keep him calm and focused. "You carried me on your back. You were so big, and so strong. I felt safe with you, even if the situation freaked me out. Just like with Hammer." Hulk growled at the name, and Peter tensed. He hurried on before Hulk could reminisce. "You carried me up the elevator shaft, remember? You protected me. When I want to feel a little safer, that's what I think about. Here--let me show you."

Peter kissed Hulk's forehead and then put his foot in the crook of his elbow, using it to help him climb onto his back. Hulk turned, craning his neck to try to watch as Peter settled between his shoulder blades and stuck in place. His eyes were wide and curious. "Peter?"

"Just like this." Peter drew himself in tight against Hulk's spine and had to take a moment for himself; Hulk was broad and sturdy beneath him, heat radiating off his skin, just like he remembered. Even when Hulk's every breath stirred him, he couldn't imagine feeling more stable. He pressed his ear to Hulk's shoulder and listened to the echoes of his heartbeat. He sighed. "Man. You're so big, I must weigh like nothing to you. Can you even feel me back here?"

"Hulk feel," he said, adjusting his posture as if afraid Peter might slide off. "Feel Peter."

Peter almost vibrated with satisfaction. _I was right about him._ He turned his nose against Hulk's rough skin and breathed him in. _He's listening to me._ _He wants to take care of me just like Bruce._ "When I need to feel safe, I pretend I'm right here," he said, wiggling a little to get the point across. "Because I know you'll always protect me." Something clicked inside him, and excitedly he leaned closer to Hulk's ear. "I want you to remember that, if we're out in the middle of a fight. The next time you feel me back here, it means something's wrong and I need you. I _need_ you. Do you understand?"

"Peter need Hulk," said Hulk, huffing.

"Yes--yes, exactly. And what I need is for you to stop, and to take a deep breath, and to listen. To think about what you're doing, what you _should_ be doing, and to remember that I need you." Hulk grumbled with uncertainly, so Peter tried again, simplifying. "When you feel me here," he said slowly, "you stop, and you breathe. Stop, and breathe. And I'll tell you what I need. I know it won't be easy, but you'll try for me, won't you?"

Hulk shifted his weight back and forth and finally settled again. "Stop," he said. "Breathe."

"That's right. Why don't you try it now?"

Hulk fidgeted again, and Peter was starting to worry it wouldn't work, but then he leaned forward on his knuckles and let his head droop. He took in a deep breath, his chest expanding, and Peter smiled as he was rocked. It felt like the entire earth moving beneath his feet. When Hulk exhaled, his body sagged with calm relief, and Peter rewarded him with a kiss to the back of his neck.

"That's good," said Peter. "Just like that. Keep going."

Hulk breathed in and out again, the sound of air rushing past his teeth filling the whole room. Peter supported him by rubbing his back, until it seemed that Hulk had relaxed considerably. "Good, good," Peter said, excited and almost emotional. "It's not so bad, is it? Do you think you can remember this, for next time?"

"Yes," said Hulk, sounding clearer than before. He rotated his shoulders, making Peter chuckle, and then rested back on his heels. "Feel Peter. Stop, breathe. Listen."

"You've got it." Peter crawled higher so he could turn his face against Hulk's neck. "I'm proud of you. Everyone's going to be so proud of you, Hulk. I know you can do this."

Hulk let out a long sigh and nudged Peter with his cheek. "Hulk needs Peter."

Peter shuddered. He immediately understood and believed Hulk's heart-felt words, but at the same time, his stomach twisted with a hot, anxious sensation. Hunched beneath him was probably the most powerful, singular living thing on the planet; it was terrifying to think that so much depended on him. His heart beat faster as he pressed in close to Hulk's skin, thinking back to the Williamsburg Bridge, and watching Hulk and Steve disappear beneath dark water. He thought of Uncle Ben and all the lives his mistakes had endangered and ended, even before he dared to promise Director Fury he could tame the Hulk next time they needed it. Hulk's eyelashes fluttered close to his temple and he felt, with an absurd clarity, how heavy a weight he had accepted by sneaking into Bruce's lab all those nights ago.

 _Stop._ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the rise and fall of Hulk's unfaltering breath. _You can't afford to doubt yourself now. You can do this--_ He _can do this. You both have to do this._

"I know," said Peter. He kissed Hulk's cheek and then climbed over his shoulder, dropping to the floor. "And we're going to do it together. The next time the Avengers assemble, I'll be right there with you." He grinned. "And we're gonna kick some ass."

"Smash," said Hulk, grinning widely.

Peter laughed. "Sure, we can smash some ass, too. But in the meantime..." He glanced again to the camera. "Since you're doing so well, maybe we can talk some more." Hulk leaned in, his face attentive and serious, so Peter said, "Let's talk about Bruce."

Hulk scrunched his nose. "Why?"

"Because..." Peter could almost hear Steve's voice in his ears, reminding him to be cautious. "Because he's a part of you," he said slowly. "He told me that he doesn't remember the things you do, but you... Even when he's just Bruce, you're still with him. _You_ remember."

Hulk looked away, disinterested, but Peter pressed on regardless. "Do you know why that is?" he asked. "Why do you remember, but he doesn't?"

Hulk stared past him, and it took him a moment to realize he was focused on the camera. "Puny man," he said.

Peter felt a chill, and he looked behind him, half expecting Bruce to be there. He licked his lips, mind whirling, as he turned back to Hulk. "Is that what you really think of him?" he asked quietly. "Or are you just repeating what Bruce thinks of himself?" When Hulk refocused on him with narrowed eyes, he couldn't help but gulp. "Do you both really see yourselves as being that separate?"

Hulk leaned back, straightening his spine. His hardened expression made him seem even larger. "Hulk is strong," he declared, and he clapped his open palm against his chest, letting the smack of skin echo through the room.

"I know you are," said Peter, tense and trying to hide it. "You're very strong. But Bruce is, too."

Hulk let out a sharp, angry huff. When he clenched his fists Peter could see the veins rising over his biceps. "Puny," he said again, but what followed afterward was wordless growls of disapproval.

"Okay, okay." Peter moved closer and touched Hulk's wrist. "We don't have to talk about that now." Though Hulk was clearly agitated he couldn't bring himself to stop just yet, not on such a sour note. "Let's talk about you," he said, forcing himself to smile. "I've already done a lot of talking, so maybe...is there anything _you_ want to tell _me_?" He gave the back of Hulk's palm a gentle pat. "You can take your time."

Hulk's brow furrowed with an almost childlike intensity. He was quiet and fidgety for nearly a minute before even trying to form the words, and even then it took him a few tries to get out something intelligible. Finally he shook his head and said, "Hulk's turn."

Peter frowned. "Yeah. It's your turn. So if you--"

"Hulk's turn," he said again, and he turned his hand, pressing carefully but with insistence against Peter's back.

It wasn't until Hulk rubbed Peter's stomach with his thumb that his intentions became clear. His eyes were suddenly bright and intense, and his tongue flicked over his teeth. Peter shuddered as heat flashed through him. He had practically asked for it--he shouldn't have been surprised that Hulk remembered and was interested in reciprocating--but as Hulk loomed over him, his breath heavy in the otherwise silent room, his nerves faltered. Suddenly Hulk didn't look as much like Bruce as he remembered.

"We can't," said Peter, and when Hulk frowned severely, he added, "Not now. I just want to talk, this time."

Hulk grumbled with dissatisfaction. "Hulk's turn," he repeated, his fingers curling possessively around Peter's torso. Even that small hint of his true strength sent Peter's emotions whirling again. "Peter needs Hulk."

"I know--I'm sorry, I--" Peter started to shove at Hulk's thumb, but then he stopped himself. _Don't freak out. You're fine._ He took a deep breath and tried again. "I've got a better idea," he said. "Let's try something. Will you lie down for me?"

Hulk squinted at him, but when Peter said, "Please," he complied. All the room's furniture gave a rattle as he let go of Peter and rolled onto his back. "That's good," said Peter. He grabbed a cushion off the sofa and slid it under Hulk's head as a pillow. "I just want you to relax for now, okay? I'm going to stay with you."

He climbed up onto Hulk's chest and dug the heels of his hands into his muscles, massaging deeply. Hulk sighed, encouraging him to continue. "That's not so bad, huh?" Peter asked as he worked. He had to put his weight into it to feel as if he was accomplishing anything, but it was satisfying to have Hulk relaxing beneath his hands. "Feels good?"

"Yeah," said Hulk. He even closed his eyes. As Peter fell into a steady rhythm, Hulk lifted his hand again. Peter watched closely, but calmed again when Hulk touched him--gently, almost reverently stroking his back. "Feels good?"

Peter smiled through a surge of emotion. "Yeah," he said. He cleared his throat and then flexed his shoulders, inviting Hulk to continue. "Yeah, it feels good."

Hulk mumbled something wordless and happy. As Peter carried on with his massage, Hulk grew even limper, his muscles easing one by one. His breath grew fuller and deeper. When Peter's arms got tired he settled down against Hulk's chest and just listened for a while, enjoying the steady beat of Hulk's great heart beneath him. Even when Hulk seemed to have fallen asleep, he kept his hand curved protectively over Peter's back, heavy and warm and comforting. Peter didn't know what to think.

"You are still Bruce in there," Peter whispered against the hollow Hulk's throat, just as Hulk finally began to shrink and pale. "Aren't you?"

***

Bruce woke up on the sofa. He had been covered in a blanket, and Peter was nestled close, leaning against Bruce's side as he fiddled with his laptop. He blinked the room into focus and took deep breaths, letting the disorientation of having come out of an event clear from his mind. Though he still felt sluggish, it didn't seem quite as severe as the last time, back on Fury's Hellicarrier.

He stretched his back with a groan. "Peter?"

Peter flinched, but when he looked to Bruce and found him awake, he grinned. "Hey there, sleepy head."

Bruce looked around the room again. It didn't seem as if anything had been disturbed, and his head didn't hurt enough to indicate he had been sedated, but he was still nervous to ask. "So...how did we do?"

"Everything went perfectly," said Peter. He set his laptop down on the floor so he could turn to face Bruce better. "Hulk and I talked for a while, and then he fell asleep, and reverted back. You've been out for about three hours."

Bruce frowned, rubbing his eyes. " _Hulk_ fell asleep? Just like that?"

"Well, he had some help from me, but yeah. Just like that." Though Peter was still smiling, it wasn't with the same level of exuberance as when they had begun. There was something almost _older_ buried in the affection he was showing Bruce then. "Do you remember anything?"

Bruce started to say that he didn't, but then he felt a flicker deep in his chest, and he closed his eyes, chasing after it. He reminded himself of what it meant to Peter and he dug down, still anxious but suddenly eager. "I remember...weight," he said, his shoulder blades itching with a phantom sensation. And then it came to him. "Stop. Breathe."

Peter straightened with a much more characteristic jolt of excitement. "You remember that?"

"Just those words." Bruce combed his hand back through his hair, somewhat mystified. "What does it mean?"

"I'll show you," said Peter, and he grabbed up the laptop again.

Bruce sat up. The watched the footage together, shoulder to shoulder, both of them tense. It was surreal. Bruce was breathless seeing Hulk on the screen, hearing the distorted version of his own voice rumbling out of him. Whenever Hulk shifted or moved, Bruce felt echoes of it rippling under his skin, connecting them more than he had ever experienced. He was speechless, up until Peter climbed onto Hulk's back and relayed his plan for future episodes.

"That's clever," he said, squeezing Peter's knee as Hulk took slow breaths on screen. "But who knows if he'll remember."

" _You_ remembered," said Peter. "That's already progress." Peter nodded to himself. "It'll work."

Bruce watched Peter instead for a moment, marveling all over again at the determination in his young lover. But then the video played on, and he began to understand why Peter seemed quieter at his side. By the time the footage ran out Bruce's chest was tight, as if Hulk had pushed just below his surface to be sure he had seen it all. Emotion pulsed through his veins but he thrust it aside to instead focus on Peter, still close and still unusually introverted.

"It wasn't what you expected," Bruce said gently. "Was it?"

Peter closed the laptop and returned it to the floor. "It was and it wasn't, I guess. I was right about a lot of things, wasn't I? You saw for yourself--he was thinking and talking, just like I said."

Bruce nodded, giving Peter's knee another squeeze. "You were right. It's strange, seeing it from the outside like this, but...you were right." He hesitated. "But you're not happy."

"I _am_ happy. This was good--really good." But Peter just wasn't programmed for lying, and he kept trying to look away. Bruce waited for the truth to tumble out of him, like it always did. "It was just, I dunno, weird. Hearing him talk about you as if you're separate people."

"We kind of...are?" said Bruce. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Peter, but I don't know how to explain it any better than him."

"You're not..." Peter stopped himself, fidgeting, and tried again. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Bruce turned on the couch to face Peter more easily. "No. Why would I be? You were right--it was important for us to do this, and it went as smoothly as you said it would."

Peter made a face, his fingers twisting around each other in his lap. "I mean, about what happened between me and Hulk before. Here." He risked a glance at Bruce's face; Bruce was taken aback by how nervous he suddenly looked. "I mean, at the time, it felt like...it was just you, you know?" he said haltingly. "I didn't really think too much about it. It was just a big, green you. But the way Hulk talked about you..." He ducked his head again. "I don't know, he made it sound like you're so different. So _separate_ , and now it's like... I don't want you to feel like I would just do that, with someone _not_ you. It was only because I assumed--"

"Peter." Bruce's head was swirling, but comforting Peter was so much more important, and he set his hand firmly on the back of Peter's neck to steady him. "I don't feel like you were cheating on me," he said bluntly.

Peter sagged beneath his hand. "You were right," Bruce went on. "It was still me, and my body, and...I put you in that position, and I'm sorry." He tugged Peter's closer. "You know the reason it upset me was because I was worried about your safety."

Peter turned, nestling into him. Soon they were stretching out on the sofa together, Bruce lifting up the blanket so Peter could curl up with him beneath it. "Sorry," Peter mumbled, twisting around Bruce and sighing into his chest. "I know how weird this is, it just occurred to me that maybe you felt that way, and I..."

"It's all right." Bruce stroked Peter's back, lightly tracing his spine with curved knuckles. "He and I...have a lot of things to work out, I guess. I'm sorry you're in the middle of that." He glanced to the laptop and replayed the footage in his mind: Peter climbing to safety on his back, Peter touching his face, Peter resting against his chest just like he was then. It was all hiding somewhere deep below his skin. "I only wish I could remember."

Peter was quiet for a moment, and Bruce waited, patiently caressing the lines of his suit, for him to work his thoughts into words. "What if it's not that you can't," he said carefully. "Maybe you just won't."

Bruce frowned at the ceiling. "It's not like I can control what I remember."

"I know, but what I mean, is..." Peter squirmed, squeezing Bruce around the waist. "All this time you've been convinced that whenever you turn into Hulk, bad things happen that you can't control. Maybe you're...blocking it out?" Bruce took a breath, but Peter continued before he could get anything out. "I don't blame you--I don't think I'd want to remember, either. But _this_ time, everything was fine, and you remembered a little bit. Maybe if Hulk had happier memories, they'd be easier for you to hold onto."

Bruce chewed his lip. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"

"Of course it is." Peter's shoulders hitched as he turned his face into Bruce's neck. "Bruce, you're amazing. And it pisses me off to hear anyone talk down on you. Even when... _especially_ when it's you."

Bruce swallowed, and if Peter hadn't been holding him so tightly, he might have tried to wriggle free. Everything had been so much easier before there was someone in his life eager to make a better man out of him, and he couldn't help the impulse to push back. But then he stopped, and he took a breath. "Okay," he said, and then again, just to be sure. "Okay. Let's try this again next week."

Peter pushed up on his elbows, and though his sharp brown eyes were intimidating, Bruce met them with sincerity. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "You're sure?"

"Yeah." Bruce smiled in encouragement. "Maybe we can set up a puzzle or two, to test his cognitive skills. If it keeps going so well, maybe we'll even be able to take brain waves, or a blood test..."

Peter chuckled, absently caressing Bruce's collar bone. "Scientific," he teased.

"No one's ever had the opportunity to study..." Bruce licked his lips. "...to study me when I'm Hulk. I've always been too afraid that someone would use the data for the wrong things. But if it's you...I trust you." He reached down to give Peter's ass a squeeze. "Will you experiment on me, Peter?"

Peter grinned; at last he looked like himself again, and he leaned down for a kiss. "I'd love to experiment on you."

Bruce murmured between their lips. _Now you've done it_ , he thought, shivering as Peter straddled his hips. _You said yes. Now you don't have a choice._ He took Peter's head in his hands and kissed him long and passionately. _You have to keep up with him, Bruce._

Peter all but purred. "I'll even keep the suit on," he teased.

"Mm, yes, please." Though still tired from his transformation, Bruce couldn't resist the temptation; he slid his hands down Peter's chest and tugged at his costume. "But for now, I'd rather get you out of it."

"Then maybe I'll turn the camera back on..."

In the end, their Friday night ended like most of them did. But at the back of his mind Bruce never forgot what he'd agreed to, and neither did the thing huddled at the base of his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce awoke, as was becoming typical for their Fridays, on the sofa. He rubbed his eyes and took deep breaths to clear his head, and as soon as he was sitting up Peter was there, offering him a cup of coffee. He accepted, taking a few grateful sips before asking, "How did we do?"

Peter thumped down next to him. "You tell me."

Bruce closed his eyes, letting another sip of coffee draw him into focus. "I remember..." He frowned when the coffee hitting his stomach made him feel overly full. "I was eating?"

"You ate almost ten pizzas," said Peter, grinning excitedly. "And you used the word 'metabolism,' which is the biggest word yet, I think. And I was tossing fruit into your mouth from across the room...which is why the carpet cleaner is out." He scratched the back of his neck. "Hulk's a pretty big target but we still have to work on our communication."

Bruce licked his lips. There weren't any traces of tastes left in his mouth, but as he rolled his tongue he remembered. "Cherries?"

"Yeah!" Peter beamed, but then he grew sheepish again. "We had some more target practice, until you killed a lamp." He pointed to the empty surface of a nearby table and a mark left on the wall behind it. "Spat those pits like they were bullets."

Bruce stared at the wall and recalled rather than felt a flash of embarrassment. "I did, didn't I," he murmured, not sure if it was pride or uncertainty making his chest grow tight. With Peter watching him so closely, he tried to be more specific. "I wouldn't say I remember it all clearly, but if I concentrate, I can catch it. I can feel..." He flexed the fingers of his free hand. "You were drawing things on his palm, to see if he could tell what letters they were. Like H, for Hulk."

Peter scooted in closer, putting them shoulder to shoulder. "You remember a lot this time," he said proudly. "There was one more important thing. Remember it?"

Bruce tipped his head back for a long gulp of coffee and then set the mug on the table in front of him. His brain tried to cloud up on him, but he clenched his fists and concentrated, imagining his memories as swirling atoms to be aligned. Echoes of sensation rippled up his forearm. "You took my blood."

"Ding ding ding." Peter hopped to his feet and disappeared behind the sofa, returning a moment later with a zipped up pouch. He opened it to show off a long, narrow capsule, cold to the touch. "It took a while to convince you, but it was actually easier once I got out the supplies. Hulk was very interested in your bag. I think you were trying to explain to me how to prep the needle, but you couldn't get it out, so we had to stop a few times for you to settle down before getting it done. But here it is! Properly stored, just like you showed me."

Bruce started to reach for it and then stopped himself. "I'm not sure if it'll test any differently than my own," he admitted. "The radiation poisoning is still in my bloodstream even when I'm not transformed. But there might be something in Hulk's that will give us an idea of the biological trigger..." At last he took the bag from Peter and closed it up. "I'm surprised you were able to convince me."

Peter watched him place the bag on the table next to his mug. "Are you aware that you keep switching pronouns?" he asked.

"You're doing it, too," said Bruce. He relaxed into the sofa as Peter sat back down next to him. "It's strange, talking about it any other way. Sometimes it feels like me, sometimes...it doesn't. Sometimes it's hard to construct a sentence. I don't know, Peter." He rubbed his forehead. "At least it's getting easier to remember."

"And I haven't had to sedate you, even once," Peter reminded him, nestling in close. "We should celebrate."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You've been great." He kissed Bruce's shoulder. "I want to take you to dinner."

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Dinner, as in, out?"

"You've come out to Aunt May's," said Peter. "To my apartment."

"To a coffee shop," Bruce conceded.

"Let's go to dinner." He kissed Bruce's ear playfully. "It doesn't have to be fancy or anything. I've got tuition to worry about. But we should go out, and eat, yeah? Like couples do?"

Bruce couldn't help but smile as Peter nibbled at his earlobe. "It's not going to bother you, people making assumptions about us?"

"Not even a tiny bit."

Bruce chuckled; everything was always so simple with Peter, and he was finally beginning to appreciate it. "All right," he said, turning for a proper kiss. "Let's go out for dinner tomorrow."

***

"You just had to do it, didn't you," Peter grumbled as he webbed a lamp post, giving just enough of a yank to sling himself through the intersection. "You just _had_ to steal a truck full of plutonium on date night."

He had been finishing up his rounds, just about ready to find a place to change for his evening out with Bruce, when the call had come through on his homemade scanner: bank robbery. Followed by construction accident, followed by flaming food cart, followed by armed men hijacking an armored Oscorp vehicle and attempting the flashiest, most ridiculous semi-truck-vs-army-of-cop-cars escape chase ever. The would-be thieves had already smashed through a dozen cars and were showing no signs of stopping, and Peter groaned to himself as he thought of each minute slipping away.

"Who the hell drives plutonium around downtown New York this time of day anyway?" Peter muttered to himself as he hopped lightly between police cruisers until he could leap on top of the truck's cab. "Oscorp, oh Oscorp, when will you learn?"

The truck swerved to avoid a parked taxi, and Peter had to stick in place for a minute before he was able to swing down to the driver's side window. One good punch took care of the glass, and as the driver swore and fought to stay in control, Peter reached inside.

"I don't have time for the usual shtick," Peter said, trying to snare the gear shift with his web. "So can you just pull over and make this easy on me for once?"

The driver shoved the muzzle of pistol into his throat, so he retreated, the report of the gun hard in his ear. "Guess not." He braced his feet against the cab and was about to simply tear the door off when his phone started playing Bruce's ringtone.

"Aww, damnit." Peter stuck his back to the cab and fumbled the phone to his ear. "Yeah, it's me, sorry, I know I'm late," he said as soon as the call connected. "I'll be there soon, I promise--don't abort yet, okay?"

Bruce chuckled, though he sounded a bit nervous. "I heard about the bank," he said. "And the cart. What is it this time?"

"Uhh...a truckload of fun, that's what it is." Peter winced as the truck blew through yet another red light, leaving braking, blaring vehicles in its wake. "But this is the last one. As soon as I stop this truck, I'll be over there."

"So should I get us a table?"

"Yeah, in fact..." Peter glanced up at the street signs racing by and winced. "We'll be passing you in about twenty seconds. I'll be right there--gotta run."

Peter hung up and tucked the phone away. "Okay, now where was I..."

The driver kicked his door open. Peter went with it, losing one foot's hold along with his concentration, and for a moment he flailed wildly as speed and inertia tossed him about. By the time he had his bearings the pistol was in his face again. He grabbed for it, avoiding a few shoots, but as soon as he'd wrestled it out of the man's hands, the muzzle of an assault rifle came next.

"Whoa--whoa!" Peter threw himself out of the way as bullets sprayed across a storefront awning. A glob of webbing wasn't enough to block the barrel so he grabbed it, kicking through the broken window to try and get his attacker to release his weapon. Bullets screamed past suit and took chunks out of the exoskeleton. He was only just barely aware when they passed 44th Street. The thunder of gunshots was already almost deafening, even without wailing police sirens and screeching tires over top of it, but he still heard quite clearly when a roar issued from the direction of Carmine's Italian restaurant.

Peter turned. Even his thieving adversary stopped shooting, and a moment later something huge and green burst onto Broadway in a rage.

Peter slumped against the truck. "Oh, no."

There was no time to think. Hulk sprinted between the cop cars and caught up within seconds. He grabbed the back end of the truck with both hands and lifted, bracing his feet to draw the vehicle to a sudden and very rough stop. Peter leapt clear and just in time--once Hulk was satisfied with the loss of momentum he slammed the truck down with a snap of his wrists that nearly whipped the engine block out from under the hood.

Traffic skidded to a halt in all directions. The police wisely kept their distance, and even Peter was stunned motionless at first, sweating through his suit as he watched Hulk pry the back doors of the truck open. _No no no, not tonight,_ he thought helplessly, but then there were shouts and gunfire, and he swung quickly toward the commotion. "Hulk!"

Peter landed on the street next to him, but by then Hulk already had both hands inside the vehicle. Bullets ricocheted off Hulk's rough skin until he crushed the guns the two men were carrying with quick pinches of his fingers. Then he had each around the waist, and both men screamed as they were dragged, grasping and struggling, out into the street.

"Hulk, wait," Peter called to him, and when the robbers continued to curse and wail, he webbed both their mouths shut. "It's okay--I've got them. Put them down, gently!"

Hulk stared at him. He wasn't even breathing hard let alone had broken a sweat from the easy workout. There were still shredded remnants of Bruce's shirt and pants struggling to cling to him, as if he had transformed without warning, and his eyes were bright and angry. He didn't look ready to relent to anything, and Peter was about to make a leap for his shoulder, when abruptly he snorted and let the robbers fall.

Peter sighed with relief. "Good. Thanks." But as soon as he crouched down to tie the men up, Hulk walked past him. "Hulk?" Peter tried to watch and work at once, but one of the men was reaching for a gun tucked in his boot, and he had to pause to knock the bastard out. "Hulk, hold on!"

By then, everyone up and down the street was stopped and staring. Peter could hear their frightened and curious murmurs like bees in his brain. When Hulk ripped the driver's side door off the truck and heaved it thoughtlessly over his shoulder, it was autopilot more than anything that drove him to react. With a rather ungraceful squawk he leapt into a proper angle and snagged the door with two strands of web, yanking it to the ground before it could fly off into the sidewalk spectators.

"Hulk, please, just--" Peter ran toward him, grimacing behind his mask as Hulk rocked the entire truck onto its side wheels. A few shakes later the driver spilled out. With one hand guiding the truck back to stability Hulk snatched up the pudgy European man by his legs and let him hang.

Peter stopped in front of him. "Hulk," he said firmly, "remember what we've talked about."

Hulk snorted again. Once the truck was on all wheels again he let it go and pointed to his captive, who had begun to swear in Russian. He twirled his finger and gave Peter a look.

"Oh." Peter obliged him by shutting the man up and then binding his wrists together; only then did Hulk set him carefully down on the ground so his ankles could get the same treatment. "There," said Peter once everything seemed settled. "We got them."

He took a look around. Everyone was still staring at them, and the cops had finally ventured out of their cruisers and were edging closer with guns drawn. The air around them felt tight and on the verge of explosion, and he could see Hulk fidgeting anxiously beneath it. "Quick," said Peter, giving Hulk's hand a tug. "Put your hand up, like this." He held his own up, vertical, in front of him.

Hulk followed suit, and Peter gave the center of his palm an enthusiastic slap. "Yeah!" he shouted exuberantly. "Nice job, buddy! We did it!"

The cops exchanged looks, and Peter waved them closer. "It's okay," he told them, motioning for them to put their guns down. "It's okay, we're on the same side. You know this guy, don't you? He fought off the aliens, remember?"

The cops still looked hesitant, and Hulk glaring at their raised weapons didn't help, so Peter stepped between them and again gestured for calm. "This is Hulk," he introduced. "He's a good guy, really. C'mon, Hulk, tell them." He nodded to Hulk in encouragement. "Take a deep breath."

Hulk frowned between Peter and the approaching police, but then he straightened up. "Hulk is P..." He stopped, scrunching his nose, and corrected himself. "Hulk is Spider-Man's friend."

Peter grinned. "Nice save." He turned back to the cops who were finally lowering their guns. "See? He's a superhero, just like Iron Man. He saw that these assholes were giving me some trouble, so he lent a hand." He motioned to the squirming Russian by their feet. "You can take them in, now."

More police started to crowd around, and as some gathered up the robbers, one brave officer edged closer to Peter and Hulk. "So he's, um, he's really an Avenger?" he asked, watching Hulk, who was in turn eyeing their growing audience of law enforcement and street gawkers. "He's cool?"

"Sure he is," Peter said automatically. "Doesn't he _look_ cool?" But when he looked for himself he could tell that Hulk was getting antsy beneath all the attention and camera flashes. He gave Hulk a light smack on the arm. "Come on, big guy. Let's get you home before you have a total wardrobe malfunction."

"But dinner," said Hulk, gesturing impatiently back toward 44th Street.

"Ah...we'll order in." Peter braced his foot to Hulk's elbow and used it to climb onto his back. "A whole tray of lasagna, if you want. Or two." He saluted at the officer. "Sorry about the mess."

"Um, thanks for the help," the man replied, and with a mystified smile, he waved back.

"Welcome," said Hulk, and then he took off, taking advantage of the already stopped and congested traffic to hurry them back to the tower.

***

"That isn't what this is about, Parker, and I think you know that."

"I know, I know, I just think maybe you're overreacting, and, to be honest, I'm probably in trouble enough already, so if you could lay off a _tiny_ bit..."

Bruce woke up on the sofa, naked and covered in a blanket. He was fairly well used to it by then, but a pair of voices in the room rather than one was something new, and he scrubbed at his face, trying to speed up his usual gathering-of-wits procedure.

"Laying off isn't exactly what I do."

"Yeah, but, you could maybe...I dunno, try something new? This once?"

Bruce's vision cleared just in time for him to catch Natasha's _Did you really just say that to me?_ head tilt. She wasn't dressed for combat, but her arms were crossed and her posture strict, as if she could get her hands dirty at any moment if she needed to. Bruce stared at her, confused and bleary, and it wasn't until she met his gaze that everything snapped into focus. He knew why she was there.

"Happy to have you join us, Dr. Banner," she greeted him.

Peter turned. He was still in costume, and seeing the tears caused by flying bullets made Bruce's fingers clench. Then Peter was next to him, helping him to sit up. "Bruce," he said with nervous cheer. "You okay? There's some water here, if you need it."

"Yes, please."

Bruce accepted a glass of water, trying to ignore the way Natasha was staring at him. But there wasn't any point in trying to avoid her, so as soon as he'd had his sip, he brought them to business. "So I guess Director Fury was watching tonight's news," he said. "There must have been footage this time."

"There was, and I've seen it," said Natasha. "But would you mind telling me what happened out there yourself?"

Peter sat down next to him and took his hand. Bruce flinched, hesitating over the question of whether Natasha already knew about them, but her expression didn't change. "I was waiting for Peter," Bruce said. "We were going to have dinner. I saw the truck go by, and I remember thinking..." He glanced to Peter. "'How dare they.' And I changed, and I stopped them."

"You remember stopping them?" Natasha asked.

"I...do," Bruce replied, surprising himself. The scene bubbled up inside him and he could feel the truck's carriage beneath his hands. "We high fived, and I said a few words to the police, and...we left."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Hulk gave a statement to the police?"

"Well, more or less."

"Told you so," said Peter.

"Mr. Parker tells me you've been 'practicing' as the Hulk," said Natasha, and there was no way to judge how she felt about that from her expression. "That he's getting better at communicating and controlling his anger, and you've been getting better at remembering."

Bruce frowned, but the pride in Peter's face was unfaltering, and he didn't have it in him to do any scolding. "Yes, that pretty much sums it up," he said. "But we've taken precautions. Every time we've had sedatives on hand and JARVIS on standby. There haven't been any mishaps."

"Until tonight."

"That wasn't really a 'mishap,'" Peter interjected. "Hulk showed up when I needed him, took out the bad guys, and then we left. No one got hurt and nothing... okay, the truck was totaled, but it was totaled anyway. I'm sure Oscorp's insurance will cover it." When Natasha continued to stare at him, he squirmed and kept rambling. "Isn't that what Cap would have done, if he were here? React to a threat and, you know, 'neutralize' it, quickly and safely? And that's what Hulk did."

"Peter," said Bruce.

"This is what Director Fury asked me to do," Peter continued passionately. "We've been working hard, and Hulk is more controlled than ever. Isn't that what the director wants? For him to be able to fight when he needs to without things going all smashy?"

"Yes," said Natasha, and Bruce and Peter both blinked at her in surprise. "You're right. That's exactly what Director Fury wants from him." She smiled. "So keep up the good work."

Natasha headed for the elevator, and the two of them exchanged looks. "Is that it?" Bruce called after her.

"That's it," said Natasha. The elevator opened for her, and once she was inside she turned to face them. "Just try to keep it out of the streets, okay boys?"

She left. Bruce and Peter were momentarily speechless in her wake, but then Peter laughed and squeezed Bruce's hand. "I knew she'd see it my way."

"How much did you tell her?" Bruce asked, though immediately afterward he couldn't think of anything he was specifically nervous about her knowing.

"Not that much, really. I didn't mention the blood sample, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it's..." Bruce shook his head; Fury and his would always have their eyes on him, and there was no point getting paranoid over what they did or didn't know--especially as concerned his sex life. "It's fine. Thank you." He smiled. "For standing up for me."

"Always," said Peter. He swung his legs around into Bruce's lap. "I'm sorry you got involved in that. I could have handled it, you know." Before Bruce could reply, Peter leaned into his ear. "But it's pretty awesome that you came to my rescue."

Bruce blushed as he moved his fingertips over Peter's knees. "I couldn't help it," he admitted. "I heard the rifle, and then when I saw you, hanging off that truck..."

"'How dare they,'" Peter quoted with a playful growl. "I love it." But then he grew more serious, and he pressed his lips to Bruce's temple. "I love _you_."

Bruce's heart skipped a beat. Once again his body seemed to move without him, and he turned his head, catching Peter's mouth in a passionate kiss. Suddenly it didn't matter that he should have been frightened by Hulk breaking loose in broad daylight. It was ultimately a loss of control he couldn't afford to take lightly, but Peter's quick intake of breath seared away any sensations of guilt. All over again he was struck and overwhelmed by the realization of everything Peter had given him, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap him up, worship him, return his sentiments a hundred times over and then some.

Peter returned the hard kiss, and when he leaned back, Bruce followed, chasing his lips until they were stretching out together on the sofa. It took them a moment to untangle their legs and kick the blanket to the floor, but then Peter was parting his knees, and Bruce settled gladly between them. He loved the nights when Peter came to him just after finishing his hero rounds: the way the spandex clung to their skin, warm and sweat-moistened and almost sticking them together; the way Peter melted beneath him, receptive to every touch and eager to be taken care of. Bruce was all too happy to set the pace. He kissed Peter's lips almost to bruising before tipping his head back to suck a slow, sloppy line down his throat and collar.

Peter groaned, rubbing up against Bruce with every part of his body that could reach. The ridges gliding over his back and thighs were mesmerizing. As Bruce moved lower Peter encouraged him, arching his back into each heavy kiss, tugging playfully at his hair. It was all familiar territory, and yet there was something exciting and unnerving about the sudden feeling of déjà vu that swept over Bruce.

He was in control and Peter was in awe of him. When his mouth found the head of Peter's cock, lipping and sucking at him through the fabric, the stuttering of Peter's hips put a prickling heat under his skin. Echoes of sensation trickled into his extremities, but it wasn't until he pinned Peter's thighs to the sofa cushions that everything started to come together.

"Fuck, Bruce," Peter whispered, muscles tense beneath Bruce's grip. "Please, don't stop."

Bruce leaned back. He was breathing hard, and when he lifted his head, he was given pause by the sight of Peter stretched out in the suit before him, flushed and lovely. He remembered a similar view and a swell of pride. He remembered Peter accepting him more fully than anyone before and the rush of pleasure that had accompanied it.

Peter was holding his breath; he must have realized what was happening, because when Bruce met his gaze, he offered a small nod of encouragement.

Bruce lowered his head again, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Peter's thigh. He let memory flow through him as he licked up and down Peter's groin, thrilling in the taste of his sweat. Peter bucked against his chin so hard Bruce had to hold his thighs down; he felt strong and he reveled in it. The reenactment was for Bruce as fiery as the original, and by the time he was throwing Peter's knees up over his shoulders, he was grinning widely. All the barriers were breaking away. He couldn't have asked for anything more.

Peter let his head fall back as Bruce fucked his thighs. His eyes were closed; maybe he was trying to relive his night with Hulk even more fully, but Bruce didn't mind. His breath heaved out of him in deep huffs with every pump of his hips, until his chest seemed to expand with the effort, until his hands felt huge around Peter's slender hips--until he remembered feeling powerful, a god of muscle and sweat and devotion. But even when Peter's thighs trembled tightly around his cock, drawing him further into frantic bliss, the color of his skin never changed. He felt Hulk pulsing in every chamber of his heart but he remained himself, through every thrust, every smack of his lips, until Peter clenching with release drew him to a sudden and exhilarating climax.

Peter lowered his legs, and Bruce started to drape himself over him, but a flash of anxiety held him back. He listened to Peter softly panting and was afraid of cutting him off. But then Peter reached up, fingers sticking to Bruce's shoulders as he drew him down. "It's okay," said Peter, faintly smiling. "I can breathe."

Bruce relaxed across Peter's chest with a long sigh. "I remember," he murmured, emotion making his throat tight as he wriggled a little just to feel Peter's arms around him. "I don't know how, but I remember."

Peter rubbed his back happily. He was quiet for a long moment, and then he gave Bruce's hair a gentle tag. "Hey, Bruce. You can say it back any time now."

Despite already being flushed, Bruce still blushed darker. With a quiet chuckle he pushed up on his elbows and leaned in for a sweet kiss. The words came almost too easily, drawing him tight with emotion that made his fingertips tingle. "I love you."

He kissed Peter again, but it didn't last long before Peter nudged him back. "You don't have to say it just because I said it," said Peter, even though he couldn't hide his pleasure; he kept touching Bruce's shoulders and chest, playfully exploring not unlike their first time sleeping together. "I want--"

"I mean it," Bruce reassured him, and his next deep kiss was met with no lingering resistance. "I love you, Peter."

Peter was convinced. They wrapped each other up, kissing through recovering breaths, until retiring to the bedroom for the rest of the night. Neither remembered dinner.

***

All things considered, Peter was surprised the brakes hadn't come on sooner.

Two weeks after the armored truck incident, Peter was awoken from a sound sleep by Bruce clambering out of bed. Exhausted from a day of lab work and crime fighting, he was slow to pull himself together, and by the time he was sitting up Bruce was already out of the room. "Bruce?" He was squinting blearily at the bedside clock when a loud thump from the hall startled him fully awake.

"Bruce?" Peter climbed out of bed, pulling on a shirt as he followed too-heavy footsteps into the living room. He already had an idea of what had happened even before he heard Hulk's deep breath huffing throughout the apartment. He glanced to the side table where one of their just-in-case syringes was still prepared from earlier in the evening. "Hulk?"

Peter found him in a corner of the living room. Hulk was hunched facing into the wall, his broad head lowered and mouth twisted in a grimace. He flinched when he heard Peter approach and wouldn't look at him; Peter hadn't seen him so upset since the first night of their experiments.

"Hulk?" Peter inched closer until he could reach Hulk's arm, and he gave it a comforting pat. "You okay big guy?"

Hulk shrugged him off and then looked guilty for it. He squirmed uncomfortably and sank deeper into his chest, and when he tried to speak, all that came out were bitter, nervous grumbles.

"Shh, it's okay." Peter moved closer to Hulk's knee, and when he leaned into it, Hulk didn't try to shake him a second time. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Did something happen? Was it...a bad dream?"

Hulk's nostrils flared with a heavy exhale, and he drew his arms in tighter. After a moment of fidgeting, he nodded.

"What was it about?" Hulk grimaced and tried to turn away, but Peter followed, rubbing his knee. "C'mon, tell me," he persisted. "You'll feel better if you do."

Hulk shook his head. His face screwed up as fear and disgust warred in his features. Finally, he looked down at the floor in shame. "Betty," he said.

"Betty?" Peter frowned. He was sure he'd heard the name in passing, maybe back on the Hellicarrier, but he couldn't remember the context. "Hulk, who's Betty?"

Hulk shook his head again, but violently, and Peter was quick to quiet him down. "Okay," he said, climbing onto Hulk's leg and then reaching for his shoulder. "Okay, take it easy. We don't have to talk about it."

Peter nestled between Hulk's shoulders, and almost immediately he felt Hulk shift beneath him with a deep, calming breath. "Good, that's good," he said. He massaged the back of Hulk's neck as he gradually relaxed. "It's okay. You're okay, now."

"Peter," Hulk mumbled. He let out a long sigh and seemed to wilt. "Sorry."

"Shh, it's okay." Peter kissed his shoulder. "Just keep breathing. I've got you."

They stayed that way for nearly half an hour, Peter gently soothing and Hulk struggling between phases of agitation and calm. Then seemingly out of nowhere Hulk retreated; with another long sigh he melted away, until Peter's feet touched the ground and he could welcome Bruce into his arms. A quick glance at the clock showed it was only four in the morning, so Peter scooped his lover up and carried him back to bed.

"Maybe you'll tell me in the morning," he whispered as he pulled the blankets over them both.

Peter didn't feel Bruce leave the second time. By the time he woke up it was after eight, and Bruce's spot in the bed had already lost its warmth. Peter tried not to let concern get the better of him as he ventured again into the living room, and there found Bruce, not in the corner but on the sofa.

Peter took a breath, but before he could get his greeting out he was halted by a muted commotion. Bruce was watching something on his tablet. It sounded like some kind of action movie, with tiny voices shouting and things exploding, but then Peter heard a roar from the speakers, and he shivered.

Bruce didn't react as Peter stepped up behind him. All the air in the room seemed to have solidified around him and he didn't take his eyes off the screen in his lap. Peter gulped and looked for himself. Even though he already had a pretty good idea of what Bruce was watching, seeing it gave him a chill.

The video was of Hulk, but rather than smashing up trucks or aliens, he was in a lab. Uniformed soldiers and scientists in white lab coats streaked across the screen, running for cover as Hulk threw fistfuls of equipment in all directions. He looked bigger than Peter had ever seen him, and there was no trace of human consciousness in his vengeful face. The last thing visible before an explosion knocked the camera out was Hulk's wide hand closing over a man's head.

Bruce started the footage over, and for once Peter didn't feel confident enough to interrupt him. He watched, hands tight on the sofa back, as the image reset to an intact lab and excited, smiling personnel. In it, Bruce was being led to the center of a shot, where a tall-backed apparatus like a dentist's chair dominated the floor. The scientists crowded around, applying sensors to his skin and offering reassurances. One woman in particular lingered after the rest had withdrawn, and she gave Bruce's hand a steady squeeze. Bruce smiled up at her, his face beaming with affection. She swept a lock of long brown hair behind her ear.

Peter swallowed, and was careful to squash whatever strange emotion it was pawing at his throat before he asked, "Is that Betty?"

Bruce tensed, but only for a moment. "...Yes."

The experiment played out. Peter was speechless as he watched the serum being injected, the device starting up. He thought he saw the familiar face of a decorated general among the military observers toward the back of the room, leaning forward as Bruce shuddered in the grip of the radiation. Bruce's skin began to darken; he cried out, his voice distorted and thin from the speakers, drawing up goose bumps across Peter's skin. The scientists began to rush about and Betty shouted for them to stop, but it was already too late. Bruce writhed and grew, his bulging muscles making quick work of the restraints. Within seconds he was a wailing beast and the carnage began all over again.

Betty rushed forward, but was only visible long enough to be recognized before Hulk lashed out, the back of his hand striking her viciously out of the frame. Bruce flinched with the impact and it made Peter want to throw up.

_This is how it happened,_ he thought. He wound his fingers tight in the sofa and forced himself to keep his eyes on the screen, just like Bruce. _This is where Hulk came from._

They watched until the end of the footage, but just as Peter was beginning to straighten up, Bruce pressed his finger to the pad and drew the video progress bar back to the start. Peter felt cold all over again. "Bruce?" he asked gently. He pried his fingers loose so he could touch Bruce's shoulders. "Um...how many times have you watched this?"

Bruce didn't answer right away. It wasn't until Betty made her appearance that he inclined his head. "Peter, would you mind making us some coffee?"

"Yeah. Sure." Somewhat at a loss, Peter kissed the top of his head and headed for the kitchen.

He couldn't hear the video anymore, but that only made the silence in the apartment nearly unbearable. Even after he'd started the coffee he tried to keep busy, opening cabinets, checking the refrigerator. He didn't want to think about eating let alone decide what kind of breakfast to make. His mind kept spinning. He had seen Hulk enraged before--he had swooped down from the rooftops and put himself in a giant's path--but the footage, grainy and incomplete as it was, put everything into painfully sharp perspective. Over and over he thought of Hulk's careless sweep of his arm and the thud of flesh and bone against his knuckles. He imagined the shock of it running up his arm and shaking his heart loose.

Distracted as Peter was, he heard clearly when Bruce left the sofa. He hurried to the nearest cabinet to grab a pair of mugs and was filling them as Bruce entered.

He looked exhausted. Peter tried to project sympathy and reassurance, but he couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound naïve and insensitive in his head. So instead he handed Bruce a mug and waited as he took a long drink.

"Sorry I woke you last night," said Bruce, his voice gravelly with fatigue.

"No, it's..." Peter fidgeted. "It's okay."

Bruce took another sip, and Peter did the same. He was just working up to broaching the subject properly when Bruce beat him to it.

"Director Fury got me the footage," Bruce said, staring into his mug. "I'd seen it before, years ago, but now...it's different. Now that I remember it."

Peter started to move closer and then stopped himself, uncertain. Part of him hoped that if he didn't say it, they could pretend that all their hard work hadn't led to such unpleasant consequences. "You, um. That woman, Betty, she..."

"We don't..." Bruce cleared his throat and thumbed his nose. "Betty was--is--General Ross' daughter," he explained. "She and I..." He finally met Peter's gaze and then winced. "It was a long time ago."

"No, I mean, she..." Peter shifted his weight back and forth. "She's all right, isn't she?"

Bruce blinked. "Oh. Yes, she's..." He took another drink. "It looks terrible on the film, but she made a full recovery. She was even here in New York back in July, visiting her father. She's brilliant, Peter--I should have introduced you to her, but I didn't..."

"No, that's...fine." Peter put his coffee aside barely half finished. "That would have been..."

"...Awkward." Bruce laughed suddenly, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, Peter."

Peter couldn't hold back anymore, and he did the only thing he could think to do: he urged Bruce's mug to the countertop and then wrapped him up, holding him tightly to his chest. It seemed to be the right choice. As soon as Bruce was in Peter's arms he shuddered and then returned the embrace just as fiercely. "I'm okay," he said, his face in Peter's neck. "I am okay, it's just so..."

"I know." Peter threaded his fingers through Bruce's short hair. His eyes ached. "I'm sorry."

They stood together that way for several minutes. Peter tried to be strong and comforting, or whatever it was that Bruce needed then. He couldn't stop thinking about echoes of impact traveling up his arm from his knuckles, and when Bruce clutched him tighter, he wondered, _How much more does he have left to remember? How many people has he hurt without meaning to?_

"Bruce." Peter closed his eyes, and though the words stung, he forced them out. "We can take a break for a while, if you want."

Bruce was quiet for a long time; Peter could feel different groups of muscles tightening along his body as he considered his options carefully. "Okay," he said at last. "I think I do." He sighed, his hands on Peter's back apologetic in their hesitant caress. "Thank you."

Peter swallowed hard, but otherwise fought not to let his emotions show.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nearing the end of October when Bruce was called away from his lab by JARVIS reporting a helicopter landing at the tower. There was only one person it could have been.

Bruce greeted his guests in the penthouse; Natasha declined a drink, but Director Fury accepted, and he and Bruce each drank a shot of whiskey from Tony's bar. It felt more strategic than friendly, and as used to it as Bruce should have been, it set him on edge.

"Agent Romanoff tells me you've had some success in practicing with the Hulk," said Fury as they got to business, still standing around the bar.

Bruce pulled his lab coat closed as if it were battle armor. "I have," he said. He glanced away. "But it's been a few weeks since I last changed, in case you have an unexplained monster sighting you're here to ask me about."

"Why?" asked Natasha. "You and Parker both made it sound like everything was going well."

"It was. I just needed a break."

Fury hummed thoughtfully. "How much of a break?"

Bruce frowned, uninterested in keeping his irritation hidden. He wasn't much in the mood for military men and their roundabout way of passing on orders. "Excuse me, Director Fury, but why are you here?"

"There's something I'd like you to do for me," Fury admitted. When he motioned to Natasha, she pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and began tapping on it. "SHIELD has been cleaning house lately. We've been upgrading a lot of our technology and equipment, and that means disposing of certain vehicles that have outlived their warranty. Most of them have been stripped for parts and scrap metal already, but we built them to last. They don't all break down as well as others."

Natasha handed her phone over, allowing Bruce to swipe through a few photos of SHIELD-branded jets, lined up neatly at the bottom of a stone quarry. They were accompanied by half a dozen armored tanks and what looked like a partially demolished hellicarrier turbine. Nothing in the pictures stood out as being out of the ordinary but Bruce already knew what Fury was asking of him, and it made him ache for another drink. "And you think I work cheaper than a junkyard press. Is that what this is about?"

"I thought it might make for an educational opportunity," said Fury.

"You mean, a demonstration." Bruce handed the phone back. "Who do you need me to impress? Or is it intimidation?"

Fury shook his head. "This isn't about anyone but you and me." He frowned thoughtfully. "Rather, you, me, and 'the other guy.' If you're getting to the point where you can become the Hulk at will and control that power, I need to know about it. Better yet, I need to _see_ it."

"So it's _you_ I need to impress."

"This isn't a test, Bruce," Natasha spoke up. "We're not going to stand back and watch with our score cards out. We just want to see you in action."

"Think of it like letting off steam," suggested Fury.

"You might even have fun."

"Fun?" Bruce looked from one to the other and had to laugh. "You think this is _fun_ for me? Don't you realize how serious--"

"Did I not see you on Youtube giving Spider-Man a high five over a hog-tied Russian mafia goon?" Fury interrupted. "Not that long ago a slip-up like that would have you running across continents, but you're still here. Aren't you?"

Bruce swallowed. He wished Peter was there. "I'm still here," he said.

"And why is that?" Fury asked, but before Bruce could answer, he put his hand up. "I want you to think about that for a while before you decide. I'll be back on Saturday, bright and early. You can let me know then if you'll indulge me."

Bruce poured himself another shot as Fury and Natasha headed toward the helipad. He didn't want to say anything more, but he couldn't help himself. "What are you going to do with all those jets if I say no?" he called after them.

"We'll ask Blonsky," Fury replied.

Bruce went cold. "But Curt said--"

"Relax," said Natasha. "He's joking. He does that, sometimes." She flashed Bruce a tiny smile over her shoulder. "He's terrible at it."

They left together. Bruce finished the whiskey as their helicopter took off and was talking himself into putting the bottle away when JARVIS said, "Dr. Banner, you have an incoming call from Mr. Parker."

"What timing." Bruce rubbed his face and took a deep breath, trying to rally himself. It hadn't been that long or even that stressful of an encounter but his fuse was shorter than usual, and he could already feel a familiar tension threading into the base of his throat. "Put him through."

"Hey, Bruce," said Peter as soon as they were connected. "Is everything all right over there?"

Bruce snorted quietly. "You saw the helicopter go by, huh?"

"When things land at Stark Tower, people Tweet about it. I'm trying to keep up with that stuff now." He laughed. "What a world we live in, huh?"

Bruce smiled; hearing Peter's voice was just what he'd needed. "Everything's fine," he said. "Director Fury was paying me a visit. I'll tell you about it over dinner tonight."

"Yeahhh...about that." Peter cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. We've got a group project due for Professor Warren on Wednesday, and tonight's the only time everyone's able to meet."

"Oh." Bruce frowned, looking back to the liquor. "Well, that's all right; we can do it another time. Have you told your aunt already?"

"No, not yet. I'm going to call her next."

Bruce tapped his fingers on the bar. He thought about the empty lab below him, his empty set of rooms--and Fury's words, echoing in all that open space with nothing to muffle them. "Actually," he found himself saying, "why don't you let me call her? Maybe...I'll still go over there, if she doesn't mind."

Peter was quiet for a beat; Bruce had no trouble picturing his wide eyes and surprised, hopeful smile. "Really? Just the two of you?"

"Why not? Like I said, if she doesn't mind." Bruce wasn't sure if he was making a wise choice, but it felt right, if only for what it meant to Peter. "We're practically family now, aren't we?"

"Yeah." He sounded almost emotional. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd like that. Thanks, Bruce. Tell her I said I'm sorry, and I'll drop by during the week to make it up to her."

"Sure. Good luck with your group." On impulse he added, "I love you, Peter."

Peter all but beamed through the phone. "I love you, too, Bruce. Call me tomorrow to tell me how it went."

"I will," said Bruce, and they both hung up. For several seconds the penthouse was almost silent, and then Bruce sighed. He was committed. "JARVIS, will you please call Ms. May Parker for me?"

"Certainly, Dr. Banner."

Bruce had only two rings to solidify his courage, and then May was on the line. "Hello?" she said.

Bruce took a deep breath. "Hello, May. It's Bruce. About tonight..."

***

Bruce arrived precisely at six. He brought wine.

"Bruce." May greeted him with a hug, which he wasn't expecting, but was nice. "I'm glad you decided to still come," she said as they moved inside. "This pork roast has been cooking all day. One way or the other it was getting eaten, even if I had to do it all by myself."

Bruce chuckled. "Well, I am here to help you," he said, setting the bottle on the table. "It certainly smells delicious."

"Why, thank you." May pulled a carving knife from its block. "I could use your help with this part, too, if you don't mind."

Bruce carved the roast while May plated sweet potatoes and green beans. It was awkward at first, maneuvering in the small kitchen together, but once they were seated with wine in their glasses, it felt more like having dinner with an older sister than an in-law. May had a few stories from her workplace lined up that kept the conversation going, to Bruce's relief. He even managed to describe to her his current project at the tower, in simplified terms. Though normally both of them depended on Peter to keep things lively during the dinners they sometimes shared, Bruce and May quickly found they were able to do an admirable job of it themselves.

As was inevitable, the topic eventually shifted to Peter himself. "He called me half an hour before you showed up," May admitted. "Apologizing for not making it. But I think he was secretly asking me to take it easy on you."

Bruce smiled. "He worries about that too much. You haven't been hard on me yet. At least, I don't think you have."

"If I had, you would know it," said May, pouring herself just a tad more wine.

Bruce did the same for himself. "I believe it," he said. He didn't stop smiling, but his eyes pinched. "Though to be honest, I'm not sure you could be any harder on me than I am on myself."

"I believe it," May echoed. "We should go about changing that. From your end, I mean, not mine."

Bruce twirled his glass, watching the wine slosh up against the sides. Just like Peter, she made it sound so easy. Maybe it _was_ that easy. "Can I be honest?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said May.

Bruce gulped down the wine and then nudged his glass aside so that he wouldn't be tempted to fill it again. "Part of the reason I wanted to still come tonight was so that I wouldn't be alone in the tower. Not that I don't enjoy your company, I--"

May shushed him quiet. "It's all right," she said. "I said my door was always open, didn't I? So let's have it." She finished her wine as well and set her glass next to Bruce's. "You promised."

"I haven't told Peter yet." He winced. "Not that I'm keeping it from him--this only happened today. But..." Even so far into the story he considered retracting, out of habit more than any real discomfort. "Director Fury asked me to become the Hulk for him, and to smash some things."

"That sounds like a rather strange request," said May. "But then, I wouldn't really know."

"It's a strange request," Bruce confirmed. "Even coming from Fury. No one has ever just _asked_ me to smash something for them." He realized immediately after saying it that it wasn't true, and had the fleeting sensation of a gun muzzle pressed to his temple. He shook his head. "All right, actually, Captain America asked me once or twice. But that was different. We were fighting aliens--the lines were so clearly drawn."

"And they're not clear now? Who is he asking you to fight?"

"He's not, it's just..." Bruce sank against the back of his chair. "It's just things. Old planes, old trucks. Garbage."

May stared at him for a moment as if thinking she heard wrong, which only made Bruce want to sink more. Then she smiled. "How dreadful."

Bruce sighed. "I know," he said. "I know it's ridiculous to get worked up over."

"No," said May, and though she was still smiling, her eyes were clear and serious. "No, it isn't. Sometimes it's the seemingly simple things that get to us the most." She leaned forward against the table, working up to saying more. "Peter mentioned something about training sessions with you, and your Hulk."

Bruce was fairly certain that Peter had done more than "mention" their experiments to his aunt, but he appreciated her going easy on him, as always. "He was helping me practice," he said. "But we haven't done that in a while. I...needed a break."

May nodded thoughtfully. "So this would be the first time in...?"

"Almost four weeks."

May licked her lips; she was choosing her words very carefully, and Bruce wondered if it was because of Peter's voice ringing in her ears. "Are you worried that something will go wrong?" she asked.

Bruce only had to give it a moment's thought. "No," he admitted, and a strange mix of relief and resignation washed through him. "Not really. Peter's right: Hulk is more than I've ever given him credit for. I'm not worried about him losing control over something as simple as garbage. And if Peter's willing to come with me, that means there's even less of a chance of anything going wrong."

May chuckled. "'If.'"

Bruce couldn't help but smile, too. "As if I could keep him away."

"Then, if you don't mind my asking..."

"What's the problem?" Bruce had been trying to think of a way to put it into words all afternoon, and though May's gentle patience was certainly helping, his stomach still felt tight and coiled, as if he were leaping over ravines. "It's hard to explain, but...for years, before I met Peter, I never remembered what happened when I was...not myself. I only ever remembered flashes afterward, and untrustworthy ones at that." He took in a deep breath. "Everything's different now. Peter's helped me so much in understanding what happens to me, and it's gotten to the point that I remember a lot. In some cases, a lot more than I'd like."

May winced, only just barely, but enough that Bruce could guess why: Peter had told her about Betty. He wasn't sure how he could see it so clearly, but it was in her face, and he felt oddly glad that she understood without him having to say any more. It made the rest so much easier to admit.

"I thought that by taking a break, I could get away from those memories for a while," Bruce continued. "But they're not going away, and neither is the other guy. In fact, he feels closer now than ever. It's almost as if we've been given a finite amount of control to share between the two of us, and the more I pass to him, the less I have for myself."

"Bruce," May said gently. "Are you sure you're not overthinking things?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Bruce closed his eyes, remembering the pictures from Natasha's phone. It was so easy to imagine himself at the center of a pit of rock and sand, metal between his fingers. "I don't know what will happen to me if I give him more control. I have almost all of his memories, now. What if the next time I change, I..." When Bruce opened his eyes again the first thing he saw was his hands tightly clenching around each other. "What if instead of remembering after the fact, I'm right there with him?"

May leaned back, but before she could say anything, Bruce rambled on. "It's so hard to make anyone understand," he said, keeping his fingers twined so that they wouldn't be seen shaking. "The way the anger just...takes over, like a hurricane--like an explosion, consuming everything. Have you ever felt hate like that? Like the air becomes the ocean and it's just...so heavy, I..." Bruce shook his head, trying to rein himself in before getting carried away. His chest was already tight and the thought of exposing May to any kind of danger made him sick.

The room was quiet for several beats. Bruce forced his hands to ease so he could rub his eyes, could regain composure, but then May spoke, and it snapped him quickly back into his proper senses.

"The angriest I have ever been was almost eleven years ago," May said, and though Bruce himself had never seen her angry, the emotion beneath her voice painted a vivid portrait in his mind. "After they told us that Richard and Mary, Peter's parents, were never coming back. No one really knew why they had left in the first place. Ben was so devastated, and Peter...."

She had to take a moment to collect herself. "But the worst part was when the lawyers showed up," she went on. "Richard had insurance through his work, and there was inheritance to consider. Their house, their assets. Oscorp filed lawsuits against the estate claiming Richard had sabotaged his own office and research before disappearing. They ended up taking a lot. And then came child services." May grew tighter the more she spoke. "Ben and I didn't have any children of our own. We both worked, but we didn't make much. They asked us so many questions--doubted whether we were up to taking care of a young orphan, considering we would never be able to raise Peter in the kind of lifestyle he was used to with his parents. Our own lawyer said the system wouldn't take Peter away from his only blood relatives, but the suggestion was there."

May met Bruce gaze for gaze, her eyes red with eleven years of anger. "And I was furious."

"I..." Bruce swallowed. "Of course."

"Furious," May repeated. "I couldn't sleep, could barely eat. Thankfully, our lawyer was right. It took weeks to work out the paperwork, between the guardianship and the money, but we were able to keep Peter." May straightened up--puffed up not unlike a mother bird. "And then I felt _righteous_ , I guess. But I kept that anger with me for a long time. It would bubble up over stupid things, until finally, Ben, he just looked at me. And he said, 'May, it's okay. You don't have to be afraid anymore.'"

Bruce's heart skipped, and he could only stare as May went on. "And that's when I really understood," she said, nodding to herself as if reliving the moment. "All that time I spent so angry at Richard, and Oscorp, and the lawyers, it was because I was so afraid they would take that little boy away from us. And even now, whenever I feel myself getting angry at the terrible criminals in this city--even the newspeople that report on them--it's the same. It's my fear. Anger isn't like joy, or grief--it doesn't just happen, Bruce. It comes from a place of hurt."

"I know." When Bruce took a deep breath he could feel it in his throat, but he had little trouble swallowing it back. "I know." He smiled bitterly down at his hands in his lap. "I've got a whole lot of hurt, May."

"Maybe he does, too," said May, but Bruce didn't know who she meant until she added, "Your Hulk."

"That's not..."

Bruce frowned, his brow deeply furrowing, but he quickly found that he didn't know what to say. He was glad when May saw as much and carried on in his stead. "To be honest, I know I don't understand everything about who and what you are," she said as she began to collect dishes. "Let alone everything about your Hulk. But it seems to me you might be right there with him already."

Bruce squirmed and tried to say no, but he couldn't get it out. He sighed. "Maybe," he relented. He pushed back from the table. "And if not...maybe it's time I was."

Bruce helped wash the dishes. May turned the radio on, which was a pleasant and well-needed diversion when neither could think of more to say. Bruce called for a cab, and as he was preparing to leave, May handed him a shopping bag holding a plate wrapped in tin foil. "Leftovers," she said, smiling. "You'll probably see Peter before I do, but even if you don't, at least you won't go hungry yourself."

"Thank you, May." Bruce hesitated at the door, and one deep breath later he was able to face May with sincerity. "For tonight--for everything. I am going to work this out."

May smiled. "You had better," she said, and she gave Bruce another hug. "That's my boy you've got tangled up in this."

"I know." Bruce smiled back. "Believe me, I know."

***

Peter returned to his apartment that night expecting to be greeted by instant macaroni and cheese and another thirty pages of reading to do before his morning class. What he found was Bruce, curled up on his sofa, fast asleep.

He stayed very still and quiet for a few minutes, his brain cycling through concern, amusement, and hope as he tried to puzzle it out. There weren't any messages on his phone, so it couldn't have been trouble. The television was even on, half muted in the corner. Bruce's clothes were perfectly intact as was the apartment surrounding him, so Peter was fairly certain he hadn't Hulked his way in, likely having used the spare key he'd offered only a few days before. He had never really thought Bruce would use it.

Peter toed out of his shoes and set down his backpack. On tiptoes he approached the sofa, thinking that it sure would be nice to just wriggle under Bruce's arm and sleep through Monday morning classes together. But there was still a chance that something was wrong, so he sat down and gave Bruce's back a gentle rub. "Hey. Bruce."

Bruce squirmed and rubbed his eyes. It seemed to take him a moment to figure out where he was as he stretched out and rolled onto his back. "I fell asleep," he said.

"Yeah." Peter smirked. "You sure did. What are you doing here?"

Bruce made a face, but only a few blinks later, he figured it out. "I brought leftovers from your aunt's." He waved toward the kitchen. "They're in the fridge."

Peter tried not to make a face of his own. "Did everything go okay over there?"

"Yeah," Bruce said, and, seeing Peter's doubt, he chuckled. "Yes, dinner was fine. May sends her love."

"You're sure? She didn't give you a hard time?"

"We got along just fine," Bruce insisted. "I was just on my way home, and I thought I might as well drop the food off before I forgot." His smile, sleepy and full of fondness, made Peter melt a little. "And I wanted to see you."

"Good, because I'm starving." Peter leaned down for a quick kiss and then headed for the kitchen. "Would you believe group projects are more draining than being a superhero?"

"Absolutely," said Bruce. He stretched but didn't bother to right himself let alone get off the sofa as Peter prepared the leftovers. "I hated group projects in school. I'm not all that keen on them now, to be honest. But there's only so much science one man can do on his own."

"Yeah..." Peter started the microwave and then glanced back. Bruce was looking awfully thoughtful, and he couldn't help but get a little nervous. For almost a month he felt as though he had walked on eggshells in Bruce's company, careful not to say anything that could even hint at their previous experiments, but it was getting harder all the time, and there were some things he couldn't let lie. "So, what did Fury want?"

Bruce frowned up at the ceiling. "He wants the Hulk to put on a demonstration for him," he said.

Peter's heart gave a thud, and he moved a little closer. "A demonstration of what, exactly?"

"Nothing...dreadful." Bruce hesitated only a moment longer before looking over; Peter took it as a cue and abandoned dinner to return to the sofa. "He wants me to smash some of SHIELD's old garbage for him. He says it's not a test, but it might as well be. He wants to see if I can stay in control."

Peter sat down by Bruce's hip and watched him closely. Only a month ago he would have immediately blurted out all manner of enthusiastic encouragements, but he had learned better. Instead, he managed to keep his face very neutral as he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm..." Bruce took in a deep breath. "I'm going to do it," he said, and then he nodded, pleased with himself. "I want to do it. And I'd like you to be there."

"Yes," Peter replied immediately. He shook himself. "Yeah, sure, of course. If the director will let me."

"Thank you," said Bruce, but he didn't relax all the way, and Peter braced himself for whatever news was left. "Actually..." Bruce reached down to touch Peter's knee; Peter took his hand. "If you're still coming to the tower on Friday, I want to change for you. It's been a while, and I don't want Hulk's first time 'out' again to be in front of all those people."

 _Finally_. Peter's chest tightened with a swell of eager and apprehensive emotion almost as strong as when he had first resolved to confront Bruce about the Hulk. "That's fine," he said, and then, realizing the falter in his enthusiasm, he added, "I mean, yes. I'm glad, I wasn't..." He squeezed Bruce's hand and leaned into him. "I was starting to think maybe we were back to square one, to be honest. But I didn't want..."

"I know." Bruce smiled reassuringly. "And thank you, for being so patient with me. You're more than I deserve."

"Pssh, you know I hate it when you say things like that."

"Sorry." He gave Peter a tug, and after they'd shared a tender kiss, he motioned back toward the kitchen. "Go ahead and eat," he said. "Unless you're going to save it for tomorrow."

"Naw, I could really use it now." Peter darted in for one more kiss before moving away. "I'll need it to stay awake if I'm going to finish my reading." The pork had already started to cool again, so he restarted the microwave. "You know, if you're so tired, you can just spend the night," he suggested. "I can do my reading in the other room."

At last Bruce hauled himself into a sitting position. "No, I'm up. I mean, I'll spend the night, if you don't mind. But don't worry about me." He chuckled. "I've slept through a lot worse."

Peter believed it. Bruce made it through dinner at least, sharing a few of the things he and May had talked about while Peter enjoyed the leftovers. Though clearly tired, he stayed engaged and awake; once the textbook was out, not so much. Peter didn't mind. He let Bruce pillow his head in his lap, and found that toying with Bruce's hair helped him read. By the time he was finished, he didn't bother getting up for the lights, simply squirming into a more comfortable position so that he wouldn't end up with a sore neck. Bruce looked so peaceful that it didn't seem worth it to wake him just to move them to the bed.

"Demonstration, huh," Peter murmured. He gave Bruce's chest a gentle rub. "I hope you're up for it, big guy."

***

It may as well have been one of the longest weeks of Peter's life. He tried to keep his mind off the approaching Friday, telling himself that he had met with Hulk plenty of times and it would be no different, but too much was at stake. He couldn't stop thinking about the grainy lab footage, about Hulk waking from nightmares in the middle of the night. Letting the matter drop had seemed like a good idea at the time, but there were so many things he wished he had said or done. He at last had a second chance and he wanted to be prepared so as to not waste it.

He headed up to Bruce's floor as soon as his work for the night was finished. Bruce had already prepared for him; the furniture had been pushed to the walls and the tripod they had been using to monitor their Hulk sessions was already set up and awaiting Peter's camera. The comforter from Bruce's bed was even stretched out on the floor. Bruce himself was setting out the sedatives in their usual places, dressed only in a pair of loose sweatpants and an undershirt.

Peter dropped his things near the wall except for his camera, which he carried toward the tripod. "Please tell me you wore that while in the lab today," he teased as he completed their setup.

"Peter." Bruce placed the last syringe and then took a long gulp from a bottle of water. "Thanks for coming."

Peter chuckled. "You say that as if I'm not here all the time," he said, securing the camera in place. He had just turned it on and was checking its tracking function when Bruce took his elbow, turning him about. His heart skipped and then Bruce was wrapping him up, startling him with a firm kiss.

"Sorry," said Bruce, but then he kissed Peter again anyway.

Peter laughed between their mouths; he was still getting used to Bruce being the one to initiate. "No, it's fine," he said, relaxing into Bruce's arms. "It's so fine."

They moved together, step for step, into the center of the room. Bruce didn't seem to be in any hurry to get to the point of their visit, so Peter didn't push, enjoying each long kiss Bruce offered. It hadn't been that long since the last time they'd shared a night, but he still shivered when Bruce drew their bodies tightly together, and gasped softly when warm fingers slipped beneath his shirt.

"Peter," Bruce said, his nails skimming over Peter's back. "I want to ask you something."

Peter hummed a soft affirmative into Bruce's temple. "Anything."

"It's okay if you don't want to," Bruce went on, swaying a little as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I know how complicated it--"

"Bruce." Peter laced his fingers behind Bruce's neck and then leaned back so he could see his face. "Just ask me."

Even with that encouragement, Bruce didn't answer right away. His jaw was tight with uncertainty but his eyes were flashing and intense. "Remember when you said before that maybe Hulk just needed better memories?" he said carefully, as if he had rehearsed. "You were right. And you're still right." He licked his lips. "I want to ask you if you'll sleep with him."

Peter felt his body go completely still. He wasn't sure what his face did, if anything, but his mind was a total blank, and he almost couldn't keep up with what Bruce said next. "I know it's a lot to ask," Bruce was continuing. "After what happened last time, not to mention...what you've seen. But I've been thinking about it over and over, and I'm pretty sure it's what he really wants." He lowered his eyes as he winced. "I have to start listening to him sooner or later. And you said once before that--"

"Okay," Peter said, but with so little air in his lungs it came out as a breathless rush. "I'll do it."

Bruce met his gaze again, searching. "You're sure?"

"Are _you_ sure?" Peter forced himself to take a deep breath. "I mean, I'm not worried--I know he won't hurt me, but..." He drew his hands forward to rub Bruce's chest. "We've talked before about how he's not really...you."

"He's close enough," said Bruce, but then he frowned. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."

"No, I'm..." Peter couldn't help but laugh at how awkward they both were. "I'm okay with it if you are. Are you okay with it?"

"I think so, yes." Bruce chuckled himself and gave his head a shake. "This is so strange; I'm sorry."

"No kidding it is." But Peter had to admit it was also exhilarating. His heart was already beginning to pound, even more so with every subtle tug and clench of Bruce's hands against his waist. "But nothing between us has ever been normal, right?"

Bruce conceded the point with a kiss. "This time, I'm going to remember," he whispered. "Every single moment. So it's not like I'm going to wake up and be jealous, all right? I promise. Ultimately...it's still me."

"Yeah." Peter nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Let's do this."

"Yes, good."

"Right."

They both hesitated, swaying together indecisively, and then laughed some more. At last Peter broke the tension with a kiss; he loved kissing Bruce anyway, and it was as good a place as any to start. Bruce gladly reciprocated. For a while they let themselves get lost in the familiarity of it. Bruce's hands were sweaty but firm as they peeled Peter's shirt off, just as he'd done a dozen times before. It wasn't until Peter did the same for him that he could feel the change: Bruce's shoulders hitched, and he gulped. As Peter met his lips again, his mouth tasted hotter, and his skin beneath Peter's wandering fingers grew rough.

Peter gulped, too. His pulse rose into his ears and he thought, _Can I really do this?_ But when Bruce tried to shy away, his hands acted without him; he drew Bruce back in, kissed his forehead and cheeks, whispering, "It's okay. It's okay, let it go. I've got you."

Bruce made a quiet sound of protest, but then he reached down, quickly removing his pants. As soon as they were off everything progressed all at once--his muscles swelled, his bones stretched, his skin grew dark and green. Peter was forced to take a step back but he stayed as close as he could, touching and kissing his partner's face until it was Hulk looming over him.

Hulk let out a long sigh. Even having displayed the transformation so many times, he still awed Peter with his sheer size and presence. Peter was certain that would never change.

"Peter," said Hulk. He licked his lips as he crouched down to put them on a more even level. The goose bumps on his massive arms were kind of charming. "Hulk's turn."

"Yeah," Peter replied, but then he laughed, halfway breathless already. "But I don't even know where to start."

Hulk seemed to know. He licked his lips again and reached out, curling his hand around Peter's back. Peter tensed at first--it would have been hard not to, with his instincts reminding him that any careless move on Hulk's part could snap him in half--but Hulk was extremely gentle. The broad fingertips massaging his back could not have been more mindful and affectionate. When Hulk's thumb nudged his stomach he leaned into it, then urged it lower, enjoying the pressure against his abdomen.

"Hulk nice," said Hulk, his already deep voice huskier than normal. His face scrunched as he struggled after the right words. "Good to Peter."

"I know." Peter shivered as he allowed himself to lean more completely into Hulk's support. "I trust you."

Hulk beamed gratefully and took it as permission to continue. He added his other hand, and for a moment Peter was completely enveloped, trapped between Hulk's broad palms. The slow friction of Hulk's rough skin was almost unbearably warm. Peter tried to stay as long as he could, but his heart was already beating frantically--Hulk was being careful but his strength was still overwhelming, and as much as Peter adored him for it, he was having trouble keeping his wits together.

 _You're fine_ , he told himself, even closing his eyes. He wondered what they must have looked like-- _Like a curious kid fingering an action figure,_ he thought--and laughed. But then Hulk drew him closer, prodding his knees wider, and it wasn't so amusing anymore. Every finger sliding over him was so impossibly sturdy, so impossibly tender, and when Hulk stroked Peter's stomach with the back of his hand, his knuckles made such a perfect little valley. Peter couldn't help but shift his hips forward.

Hulk stopped, but only briefly, and then he was pressing two fingers insistently against the small of Peter's back. Peter obeyed; tentatively at first, he rocked against Hulk's hand, and he had to admit, it was amazing. The apprehension that had been holding his arousal at bay began to fall away, even more so when he gripped Hulk's fingers, giving himself at least an illusion of control. He grinded between Hulk's knuckles and groaned with how swiftly and surely his cock swelled within his work trousers.

 _Is this what I've wanted?_ Peter thought, letting Hulk's hand at his back draw him into a gradually mounting rhythm. _All this strength, focused just on me... Do I even deserve this?_ He licked salt from his lips and laughed. "Holy shit, Hulk," he said between panting. "Take these pants off and I could fuck your fingers just like this."

"Yes," said Hulk immediately, and his hands twitching eagerly only made them that much more fun to hump. "Yes, Peter." He shifted on his knees, trying to get closer, looming over Peter. "Yes."

Peter forced himself to stop, but as he reached for his pants, he realized his hands were shaking. Hulk's breath was stirring his hair and he wasn't sure if he was already having the time of his life or was about to run for the door. He was just _so much_ , of everything, and when he looked down, seeing Hulk's huge cock growing flush and hard against those gigantic thighs--

"Hulk." Peter took a few deep breaths and then pushed at Hulk's hands. "Lie down for me."

Hulk growled with ill ease, but Peter was quick to silence him with a few short kisses--which was strange, Hulk's lips being almost as wide as Peter's entire face. "I'm not going to put you to sleep," he said. "I promise. Please, just...lie down for me."

Hulk grumbled, and he gave Peter's crotch a rub as if to coax him back into what they had been doing, but Peter shook his head and again said, "Please."

With a sigh, Hulk relented. As soon as he was settled on his back, Peter stripped out of the rest of his clothes and climbed onto his stomach. Already it was very different, staring down at Hulk's upturned eyes, feeling the giant's body rising and falling beneath him with every breath. It was as if he had tamed a beast--a metaphor not far from truth, really--and was reveling in well-deserved conquest. But at the same time, he was still a beast. It was exhilarating.

Peter sat down, quivering with a feverish sensation as his cock brushed Hulk's too-hot skin. "I am going to give you such good memories," he said.

"Yes," Hulk panted, his already darkened cheeks blushing. "Yes, please, Peter."

Peter squirmed, biting his lip. "Oh man, you can't beg like that. It'll be all over for me."

"Please," Hulk said anyway, though he sounded more demanding than begging, which was even worse. He prodded at Peter's thighs and ass. "Peter, yes, please, _please_..."

Peter hissed through his teeth. When he raised himself up just enough, Hulk slipped one finger between his cheeks. It was thick and strong, and as it rubbed gently back and forth Peter thought, _I bet I could take that._ The thought made him giddy, but he wisely kept it to himself. He wasn't sure yet how far Hulk would take any suggestion he gave him.

"Easy," Peter murmured, for both their sakes, as he leaned forward. "Easy."

He pressed a long, wet kiss to Hulk's chest; the muscles straining beneath his lips were so well sculpted he couldn't help but worship them. Nothing in the world was hiding strength like them. He kissed each patch of skin with relish, enjoying the hitch of Hulk's breath. But it was when he sealed his eager mouth over Hulk's right nipple that things got really interesting; Hulk arched beneath him, growling excitedly, his head thrown back. Peter all but vibrated himself, so thrilled with Hulk's reaction that he could have come on the spot. _I don't remember Bruce being this sensitive here_ , he thought, teasing Hulk with a swirl of his tongue. _Have I just never noticed, or this a Hulk-only thing?_ It occurred to him that he should have been bothered by the implication that Bruce and Hulk were separate in yet another capacity, but he couldn't keep a hold of that concern with Hulk all but purring beneath him. As he continued to suck and nibble, he reached across Hulk's chest to give his other nipple a playful pinch.

Hulk growled through his teeth. His massive body shifted, and when Peter glanced behind him, he couldn't help but groan himself at the sight of Hulk drawing his knees up. With one hand still stroking Peter's ass and thighs, the other slid downward, across his clenching abdomen to grip his cock.

Peter could only stare as Hulk began to jerk himself off. Despite several very vivid fantasies he'd nursed in the months since his first mishap with Hulk, he had never even dared to imagine what Hulk pleasuring himself would look like. He tried to stay focused, since Hulk seemed to be appreciating him right where he was, but his own cock was rock hard at what he was witnessing, and he _needed_ to get in on that.

Peter gave Hulk's chest one last sucking kiss before turning himself around. Hulk's body was hot and heaving beneath him, made even more tantalizing by a sheen of trickling sweat. Peter massaged every scrap of muscle he could reach as he scooted down Hulk's abs. "Easy," he said again, touching Hulk's wrist. "Don't rush." He smiled at Hulk over his shoulder. "Let me help you with this part."

Hulk snorted mightily, and his cheeks puffed with irritation, but he relented. He halted his pumping fist and instead reached lower, fondling his just-as-impressive sack. Peter could barely see the tendons in his forearm tensing with restraint. They were works of art as far as he was concerned, but there were other parts of him even more deserving of attention.

"Peter," Hulk said urgently. He slid his thumb beneath his cock so he could angle it better toward Peter. "Peter, please. Please..."

"Holy shit..." Peter gulped, but he didn't hesitate. He nestled into the crook of Hulk's hip and braced his heel in the opposite thigh, just to give himself better stability, and finally he reached forward. The first touch of his hand skimming up the underside of Hulk's cock proved it necessary; Hulk bucked involuntarily, and Peter might have been thrown if he hadn't stuck instinctually in place. "Whoa," he said, chuckling, and then he did it again, stroking with his entire open palm up to Hulk's swollen head. "You really are sensitive."

Hulk's deep-throated growl sounded almost threatening, but it only excited Peter more. He circled Hulk's great organ with both hands, exploring slowly at first. Root to tip he followed each vein and skin fold--he wanted Hulk to feel every precious inch of his own miraculous body. Hulk shuddered beneath the attention, groaning and panting like nothing Peter had ever heard before. When Peter squeezed the base of his head with both hands, he hissed wetly and his cock twitched between Peter's fingers as if at the point of bursting, but Peter hushed him.

"Not yet," Peter said, breathless and light-headed, as he maneuvered closer. It took some coaxing to get Hulk's hand out of the way, but once he had, he was able to brace his feet in Hulk's parted thighs and straddle his cock properly. Drawing the shaft up between his legs, feeling it press hard and naked against his body, drove Peter almost out of his senses. He stroked and squeezed, rubbing against it with his thighs, his stomach, his own aching dick, spurred on by Hulk's growing rumbles of pleasure. When he was confident that Hulk wasn't about to buck him again, he even bent down to add his mouth. Not that he could take much in--Hulk was simply too big--but he licked and sucked and reduced Hulk to whimpers. When he tongued the slit he could have sworn he heard Hulk swear.

 _This is insane_. Peter groaned at his own audacity as he thrust against Hulk's cock and felt Hulk thrust against him in return. _But this is huge._ He smacked his lips and couldn't help but laugh. _Not just **huge** , but, important. This is important for him._ He stretched his arms down and squeezed Hulk with as much of his body as he could. _God I hope Bruce remembers how good this feels._

Hulk's toes curled as his voice grew ragged to the point of gasping. Peter could feel his hands close by, hovering indecisively, only their fingertips occasionally gracing Peter's back. _This is important,_ he told himself again, and he snagged Hulk's thumb. _He needs this._

Peter drew Hulk's hand up against his side. "Easy," he said, though he wasn't sure if Hulk could hear. "I trust you, Hulk. I trust you."

Hulk moaned in reply. He tried to flinch away at first, but then Peter gave him another tight squeeze, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from touching Peter at last. He started at Peter's back, massaging the small of his back. Then he was rubbing Peter's thighs with his fingers. When he hooked one around Peter's chest it startled him for only a moment, but his trust was not misplaced. Even when Hulk's body acted without him, pumping up against Peter's stomach, his hands were adoring. He enveloped Peter in heat and strength in a way Peter had never felt before, and it was thrilling, intoxicating.

It was too much to last for long. Peter held on as long as he could, grinding and clinging and mouthing, but he felt as if his sweat was boiling off his skin and his insides coiling into knots. Then Hulk thrust with his hips one last time, and Peter was just quick enough to lean back to avoid taking a shot to the face. It was too much, feeling Hulk throb between his thighs, hearing him groaning in ecstasy; Peter collapsed back into Hulk's broad palms and came, shaking with release, until he was utterly spent and exhausted.

At first, Hulk let him go. His wide hands curled and flexed overhead as if he had no idea what to do with them, and it wasn't until Peter caught his breath that he considered why. "It's okay," Peter said, drawing them back down. He flopped onto his back, stretching out across Hulk's chest to better feel the little quivers of pleasure still rippling across his rough skin. "Come here." He tugged Hulk's hands over him as if they were a blanket and sighed. "There."

"Peter..." Hulk was still panting himself, and his hands were tense with restraint. Gradually, he calmed. With Peter's continued reassurances he even rubbed his thumb against Peter's chest with cautious affection. "Peter good?"

"Yeah." Peter wriggled happily onto his side so he could press a kiss to Hulk's chest. "You're really something, you know that?" He craned his neck trying to get a look at Hulk's face, but he couldn't from his angle, and with a tired grumble he finally sat up. "You know that," he said again. "Right?"

Hulk blinked at him. He seemed to struggle for a moment, but then he smiled--that same twisted half smile that Peter knew so well on a smaller face. "Hulk is really something."

Peter laughed, and he crawled forward to kiss Hulk's chin. But as he leaned back, folding his arms across Hulk's collar bones as his world rose and fell beneath him, something tugged in his chest. He licked his lips. "You know," he said quietly, "to be honest, I'm pretty sure I don't understand exactly how this works. What you are, how you and Bruce fit together..." He rose up on his elbows. "But it kind of doesn't matter to me. Because I love you both. Just in, well, different ways. Do you understand?"

Hulk stared straight back at him. There was something deep and vulnerable in his eyes then, and though he didn't even try to reply with words, Peter understood. He covered Peter with both hands as in prayer. "I know it's not always fair to you," Peter went on, "but you're okay, right? I mean, it's not such a bad arrangement we've got going now. You, and Bruce, and me. We...work. Don't we? We can make this work?"

Hulk swallowed and took a deep breath, but again he didn't attempt to speak. He just nodded--and then again--and held Peter tighter. Peter started to say more, but then he couldn't think of the words, either, so he kissed Hulk again and settled in against his chest. He ached with emotion and couldn't stop smiling.

***

Bruce woke up on the sofa, covered in a sheet. It was starting to feel as natural as waking up in a bed.

He sat up. There was a glass of water on the table next to him, but it took him a moment to spot Peter; he was dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, hanging upside down as he cleaned something off the ceiling. Bruce rubbed his eyes. "Peter?"

Peter twisted, and with a nervous grin he dropped lightly to the floor. "Hey." He tossed his rag onto the comforter piled up against the wall. "Well? How much do--"

Bruce stood, sheet ignored, and drew Peter to him. "Everything," he said, wrapping Peter up in his arms. "I remember all of it."

***

Bruce stood overlooking the quarry. It was deeper than it had looked in the pictures, with steep, jagged walls. As promised, the bottom was lined with a variety of SHIELD vehicles, looking dusty and grim in the early morning light. Bruce squinted at them, trying to pretend that they were alien vessels crawling with otherworldly invaders, but then he shook his head. They were just trash. Just leftovers for him to crumple and discard.

Peter's hand slid into his, and Bruce squeezed back, tracing a line of rubber with his thumb. "I'm okay," Bruce said automatically. "They're just things. It's just practice." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Just like we've done before."

Peter smiled back. "I'll be watching," he said.

He wasn't the only one. Bruce glanced behind him to where Fury and his entourage were lined up: Maria, Natasha, Steve, and Clint had all come to watch, dressed casually in contrast to the half a dozen soldiers Fury had allowed to tag along. If Bruce didn't know better he would have thought they coordinated their efforts to put him at ease. One upon a time he would have thought it hollow encouragement, but he found he didn't mind. When Steve smiled at him, he even smiled back.

"Any requests?" Bruce asked them.

"Tie a tank barrel into a pretzel," said Natasha.

"A poodle," said Clint.

Fury crossed his arms. "Just stay focused," he said. "Do what you're here to do."

 _But this isn't a test, right?_ Bruce thought with a smirk. He turned back toward the quarry and gave Peter's hand a shake before letting go. "Okay, here we go." He stripped out of his shirt and shoes, which Peter took from him. "I'll be right back."

"Good luck," said Peter, and he backed away.

Bruce took a deep breath and held it. _Just things_ , he told himself again. _It's just a job to do._ He moved closer to the edge, surrendering with each step. He could feel the pressure building all through his veins, pounding out from his chest, and he welcomed it. By the time his toes were hanging over the drop his sight had grown dark, and he closed his eyes as if that would help it along. _Okay, big guy._ The wind pushed at his back, making it that much easier to tip forward. _You're up._

It was a long drop. The quarry walls blurred into featureless gray, the quarry floor into jagged, black shapes like lumps of coal. Hulk landed on all fours, stone buckling under his weight. The world came into focus all around him. He didn't waste any time.

The jets came first. A fist through every windshield, destroying the instruments and crushing the cockpits. Wings torn off as easily as if they were dragonflies. Engine turbines became brass knuckles and tailfins became carving knives. Everything, smashed. Everything in pieces, like toppled Lego castles. It was so easy, digging his hands into the belly of each wounded vehicle, splitting them apart. Breaking, tearing, stomping. Rending into bits.

They were for him. _Have fun,_ everyone had said. Did they really think it was fun? To burn beneath the skin with a lifetime's regrets and grudges? To be judged and blamed for existing, and then to find release only to be judged and blamed again? They didn't know. Hulk wielded one jet into the next, folding them over each other, and was tempted to toss one Fury's way. Maybe he would understand then how _fun_ it was living as someone else's monster.

But no, no, Peter was up there. Peter wouldn't like that.

Tanks, then. Tanks were hardier. Tanks had strong walls, heavy treads. Hulk took one by the barrel and swung, ripping the turret from the hull with a spray of metal. The shredding steel made a sound like screaming, and Hulk screamed back, because he could. Now when things screamed, he could scream back. He pried the tank open, reached deep into its engine. He ripped its heart free and crushed it in his palm. Slick oil felt like blood between his fingers. Kill this beast, he thought. Stop it from screaming. You can scream back, now.

More tanks. More jets. Decimating them, using them. Hating every one of them. Hulk pried the treads loose with his teeth; he emptied their engines on the rock. They'd had too much to drink, he thought, and he emptied them. But even empty they still hated him, so Hulk hated them back, and took them apart, piece by piece.

The turbine was last. It was bigger than him, a lot bigger, but Hulk wasn't afraid. He couldn't afford to be afraid--no time to be afraid. Fear made men puny, and he wasn't puny anymore. He could scream back, he could _fight_ back, _he had to fight back_.

 _Hulk is strong_ , he thought as he plunged his fists into his looming prey. _Hulk, strong. Strong. Be stronger._ He clawed his way to the top and forgot everything but his hate, using it with every swing of his arms. He smashed iron into steel into titanium. He smashed plates and bolts and blades. _Be stronger_ , he thought as he pounded five perfect knuckle dents into the core. _Be stronger_ , he thought as he bellowed and cried. _Be stronger, you puny insect, you worthless child, you cowardly little monster. Why aren't you stronger?_ He smashed and smashed and the thing fell apart around him, but it made no damn difference. _Why aren't you stronger?_ _Be stronger, be--_

Something struck Hulk's back. He almost didn't notice. The enemy was still in front of him, in shambles, but there was more he could do--he hadn't done enough. He couldn't do enough. But then the something touched the back of his neck, and without thinking he took a breath. His arms shuddered in the grip of his own terrible momentum, but he reined them in, forced them to the quarry floor. He remembered a voice in his ear, and it sharpened into the present, no louder or more urgent than it needed to be.

"Hulk. Hulk, it's me. You can stop, now."

Hulk stopped. His breath heaved between his clenched teeth and his muscles writhed against his bones, but he stopped. The weight on his back gave him focus, and with one more deep breath he looked around at the destruction he had caused. Every vehicle had been annihilated. The turbine could have taken more, and Hulk would have gladly obliged it, but Peter was telling him he didn't have to. He could stop.

Hulk scraped his hand over his face to get the sweat out of his eyes. "Peter."

"Yeah." Peter gave his shoulder a thump and then jumped down in front of him. He looked up at Hulk with cautious enthusiasm. "You did a really good job."

Hulk looked again. He had smashed a lot. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Peter cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

Hulk shifted back and forth. When he glanced again to the turbine his palms itched, and he grumbled with dissatisfaction. _Be stronger._ But then he shook his head. He remembered aliens, and mutants, and a runaway truck. He remembered Peter tangled in his fingers and draped across his chest. "Hulk is strong," he said.

"Damn right he is," said Peter, beaming. "Let's go tell Director Fury that."

Hulk scooped Peter up onto his shoulder, but before he left, he grabbed a mangled tank barrel.

Everyone backed away a few steps when Hulk climbed over the edge of the quarry. After letting Peter down, he turned his attention on the length of metal in his hands. It took almost no effort for him to bend it into a letter A, and he dropped it at Fury's feet. Everyone stared.

"Hulk pass," Hulk grunted.

Fury looked down at the metal, then back up. A hint of a smile that might have even been a bit apologetic tugged at his lips. "Yeah. I'd say so."

"Hulk pass," he said again. "Hulk fight. No more test."

Fury frowned, seemingly taken aback, but he nodded. "All right, it's a deal. No more tests."

He moved away, so Hulk turned the others. He grimaced in preparation of their unease and scorn, but when Steve was the first to approach there was no hesitation and no malice in his face. "Good job," said Steve, and he shook Peter's hand. "Both of you. Nat said you've put a lot of work in."

"We have," Peter said brightly. He gave Hulk's arm a rub. "And we're going to keep at it. Right?"

Hulk blinked at him, but then the others came closer, too. Clint gave him a salute and Natasha a high five. Maria said something about a uniform. There might have been some lingering stiffness among them, but when Hulk crouched down on his haunches they met him at eye level and didn't flinch away.

"Tony," said Hulk, scrunching his nose.

"We'll show him next time," Peter said immediately, ruffling Hulk's hair. "He's going to want to see you in action, too."

Hulk nodded. As everyone started cracking jokes about Tony, he even grinned. A few of Fury's soldiers ventured closer, and Hulk allowed each to poke his bicep. Two took selfies. And the whole time Peter remained at his side, protective but not overly so, his smile radiant. He never waned.

Hulk didn't need to concentrate at all to say, "Peter strong."

Peter glanced to him in surprise. He chuckled self-consciously. "Not as strong as you."

"No." Hulk leaned in closer; he needed Peter to understand. "Peter strong."

Peter chuckled some more, but as Hulk continued to watch him, the words finally seemed to dig in. His smile grew warmer, and he squeezed Hulk's thumb tight. "Thanks."

Hulk smiled back, and then he closed his eyes. He let the waves roll over him, until he felt a familiar pressure at the base of his throat, gradually expanding into his weary body. _Be stronger, Bruce_ , he thought as it took him over. _Be as strong as Peter._

And as Bruce overtook him, he thought he heard an answer.

_I will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry for the long wait on this one. I didn't mean for it to get away from me the way it did. But thank you for your patience! Your support means more than I can say. I've already got an outline for the next part of the series, but I'll definitely be building myself a buffer before I post anything, and with Yuletide coming up there probably won't be another update until the new year. But I'm itching to get back into plotty longfic territory!
> 
> Thanks everyone, I hope you're enjoying the series :D


End file.
